OTA

Aug. 8th, 2017 08:18 am
finlay_flynn: (grump)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn posting in [community profile] londoncallingrpg
Since returning to London so much in Fin's life had changed. Will had left the flat, leaving Fin alone, but with some new freedom. The young fae had still been a bit timid about taking charge at first, but he'd decided to gut the place. The once sterile series of white boxes connected by doors had been opened up to something more inviting, with rich wood floors and a more bohemian aesthetic. It was a writer's dream, with plenty of space for the fox to roam and play when being fae grew too exhausting. It was a tad lonely, yes, especially with Keats off living with Winter and Phouka, but it was better this way.
 
Control was an odd thing though, and after having a small taste of it, Fin found himself a bit addicted. He'd renewed his contract with the BBC, but not before insisting they give him more time to pursue theatre work. He'd agreed to do a short revival of his play, Reap, but on his terms. The theatre had wanted a huge production, but Finlay had put his foot down, insisting it needed to be simple- After all, in his mind, it was the simplicity that made it what it was. He dismissed scripts he didn't like, he turned down press he didn't want to do- And for the first time in a long while, he felt good. He felt sure of himself.
 
He was still looking too thin from his stay in New York City, but his appetite was returning bit by bit, and he was picking at a robust looking salad as he sat outside his favoured cafe with his notebook on his knee. His gaze combed slowly over what he'd already written, and now and then he'd put down his fork and pick up his pen, scratching things out and re-writing them. Under the table his foot tapped anxiously, going still when the fae paused and pushed his hair back out of his eyes, then beginning to tap again. He paid no mind to the occasional onlooker, thankful that in London, much like New York, most people were 'too cool' to ask for a selfie. He wasn't ready for all that. He was in control, and he was more focused than he'd been in a long time, but he was still recovering. Recovering from what had happened with Will, from everything that he'd been through over the last few years, and recovering from losing his sense of self.
 
He was getting there, but like all things, it would take time.
 
Putting his pen down again he picked his fork back up and poked at his salad a little, looking lost in thought as he skewered a bit of cucumber. These past few days he'd been keeping to himself. Honestly, he'd barely spoken to anyone who wasn't one of his managers or a business contact since he'd returned. He'd seen Pip, spent time with Greg, but he was isolating himself a little. Or maybe it was more he didn't know who to reach out to anymore. ...Either way, Finlay Finn was painfully alone.

(OTA. Late and slow tags all welcome.)

Date: 2017-08-08 10:59 pm (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka
The Phouka had decided this was a lovely day for a walk and Keats had agreed. Much as he would have liked to have taken the form of the dog and run wild with Keats in a park, he knew they'd likely be picked up by animal snatchers and sent to the pound and that would never do. So he'd fixed the leash on Keats and they had gone for a stroll. Both of them investigated queer scents and they stopped often to get nibbles of this or that.

Keats smelled Fin before the Phouka did, but the creature was not long behind the dog. Keats pulled at the lead, dragging the Phouka to the table where Fin sat. When he saw the fae prince, the Phouka let go of the leash so the dog could properly show Fin the affection he deserved.

"Hello, my friend," he said as Keats sniffed and jumped and licked wildly. The Phouka calmly took a seat, not thinking there might be anything wrong with a rambunctious dog outside a cafe.

Date: 2017-08-09 12:39 am (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka

"No, no. He eats his kibble," the Phouka said. "And pizza, and sardines, and steaks. He has a very good appetite. He is a very good dog. The best dog."

There was a bit of glitter on the ground around Keats' feet where it had fallen out of his fur while Fin loved on him.

"We are having a grand time. I do believe he would like to come home to you, though. He tells me he misses you often."

Date: 2017-08-09 12:51 am (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka

"Yes!" the Phouka said with a smile. "Or, rather, I understand him and what he says. We cannot have conversations such as this. But we do talk, in a way. And he tells me he enjoys pizza. And gummies. And trying to eat Winter's budgies."

A server came over and the Phouka asked for a cup of tea and a bacon sarnie. Then amended that to two bacon sarnies.

"He likes bacon, too. And he wants to sleep on your bed again."

Keats whinged softly, then growled a a bit before letting out a sharp bark.

"He likes your bed more than ours, even though ours has much more room."

Date: 2017-08-09 01:03 am (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka

"Might I propose a compromise? When you are able, he will live with you, and when you are working, he could come play with us," he suggested. "We are happy to have him, always, but we should consider his wishes, I think."

Date: 2017-08-09 01:09 am (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka

"He is a brother. I would not mind," the creature assured him. "We will play in the park and go for walks and roll in dirt. It will be grand! And he will be happier."

Date: 2017-08-09 02:16 am (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka

"I have been well. I have new clothes that Winter convinced me to buy. They are rather drab, but he says I look nice," he said with soft affection. "And Winter is..."

That was where he faltered.

"Winter is not well. He is grown and it is giving him trouble. He is sad often. I worry for him," he said. "And for the prince. He is sad as well. He never smiles anymore."

Date: 2017-08-09 02:38 am (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka

"He often sits alone, or goes for walks. I do not know if he would ask for help, but I would give it. I hold him when he lets me and I give him many, many kisses," he said more softly. The waitress came back with his tea and sandwiches, which made him smile. "He is my best friend and my true love. I will always give him kisses."

Date: 2017-08-09 03:06 am (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka

"I do not think he would do himself harm. He is very concerned with the fact he may bring harm to others. We went on holiday to his village and he was very worried he would poison them with his troubles," the Phouka said. He whinged softly, which Keats echoed.

Date: 2017-08-10 11:40 pm (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka

"I will always take care of him. He is my best friend and my true love," he replied with a soft smile. That he was fond was written all over him.

"I think he will be alright. It is just that growing is so hard."

Date: 2017-08-13 09:07 am (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka

"Most days, when I am not playing with Winter or Keats I am reading. I now read books without pictures," he said proudly. "There is a book about a boy wizard and his adventures. I am on Chapter six. All by myself!" he said. Keats sat up and gave a short yip of approval at his words. "Yes, yes, I will still read you the rest," the Phouka promised.

Date: 2017-08-13 04:37 pm (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka

"I would like many books," he nodded. "And toys. And delicious food. I believe Santa will bring me many things. Winter does not believe in Santa, but I have tried to convince him otherwise. I fear if he does not believe, he will get no special gifts."

Date: 2017-08-13 10:22 pm (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka

The Phouka's eyes lit up brightly and his smile was dazzlingly bright.

"That is so good to know!" he said, bouncing a little. "I was afraid he would only get gifts from me. I have been buying him gifts all year and stowing them away in my secret hiding spot."

Date: 2017-08-14 09:41 am (UTC)
phouka: (Default)
From: [personal profile] phouka

"I buy him a gift every Saturday," the Phouka said proudly. "Sometimes it is something wonderful, like a pot of glitter or a book of stickers. Sometimes it is ordinary like candies. I have been told the gummies will still be chewy in December," he explained.

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