Only a little fellow in a wide world

[nicehobbit]

Who: Frodo Baggins and you!
What: Settling in
When: The first couple of days since his arrival
Where: Around Milton

A. Dress-up

[ With food in his belly, dry clothes and a bit of rest, now comes the matter of actually dressing appropriately for the weather. The jacket and cloak may have served Frodo well enough during his journey back home, but he doesn't need anyone to tell him that they will not be enough in this cold. If his walk here was any indication, it's probably worth finding boots, too, for all that he'd prefer not.

This is easier said than done. Surely, there must be appropriately-sized clothing for him. The people who must have left these items behind would have had children, wouldn't they? At least some of them. Or will he need to find someone who can potentially tailor one of the coats for shorter men?

He can be found trying on coats, one after the other, that are small enough that he's not drowning in them but so big that even keeping his hands outside of the sleeves long enough to reach the zipper is a battle. Not to mention the existence of zippers in the first place. He scowls down at one of said zippers, then throws the coat off him with a frustrated sigh. ]

B. Exploration

[ Once he's found good enough clothing, Frodo ventures outside again. He'd gotten a decent look at the town on the way in, but he was mostly concerned with getting to his destination without dying. The wind still bites into every bit of exposed skin it can, but it's manageable.

He doesn't get all that far, though. Once he reaches the post office, he stops in the crossroads to stare. First, he only sweeps his gaze across what he can see, but in a moment he starts turning around, taking in the abandoned and run-down buildings with a sinking feeling in his chest. This isn't right. It's not right at all.

When he sees someone else on the road, he stops turning to direct a question to them. For a moment, being wary of strangers is unimportant. ]

What happened to all the people here?

[ He hasn't had - or taken - the time to do his research just yet. ]

C. Wildcard

[ If you want to use his arrival prompts from the TDM, feel free! Also down for considering them game canon. Or run into him some place else in town. You can hit me up at Tossino or discord @ tossino! ]

Comments

[dies_irate]

All right, Frodo. Well... [ He looks towards the clothes. ] Since you've been in here longer... have you found anything that's very very large?

[nicehobbit]

There are more big clothes than small, but ...

[ He looks at John properly, trying to match clothes he saw to this impossibly large ... person. Especially when most of the clothes he saw that were clearly too large for him, he simply brushed past. ]

I'm not sure. One or two coats, perhaps.

[dies_irate]

Right. Any... large pieces of fabric, perhaps? I don't... think 'pants' are going to work, really.

[ He'll reach over, the one arm separating into four separate tentacles that start parsing through the clothing in two pairs while his other arm, claw tipped as it is, is carefully sorting through.]

I'll pass anything small I see.

[nicehobbit]

[ He shakes his head, but before he can answer he needs to close his mouth to swallow any audible reaction to the tentacles. Tentacles haven't been part of a good thing in his travels so far, and all he can think about are dark waters and endless chasms. ]

N-no, I haven't seen anything I'd call large pieces of fabric. But that shouldn't be too difficult to make from the garments here.

[dies_irate]

True, but if there's already a curtain or something, that might be a better option.

[ As he's picking through one of the larger coats that might be an option, he finds, balled up within- ]

Here. This might work for you, Frodo. It's... smaller. But it looks warm.

[ He wonders, absently, if this once belonged to a parent and child, to a family whose clothing were bundled together and brought as one. He wonders about where those people are, even if he knows it's pointless. It's one of the reasons he doesn't like the idea of tearing apart clothes to make something for himself. Perhaps it's foolish, but if he can do otherwise, he would prefer to. ]

[nicehobbit]

I'm sure you should be able to find curtains too.

[ He steps over to take the smaller coat - jacket might be more accurate - and holds it up in front of himself. It looks promising at first glance, so he backs up to try it on. ]

[dies_irate]

[ He does the same with the larger coat, pleased that it seems to contain him; the robes seem to fit inside of the coat well enough and add an extra layer of warmth that he finds comforting. His legs are thick with wool, but he still wants something to help cut the wind a little, and he'll keep looking until he finds what looks like a long skirt. That works well enough but he's not quite sure how to- ]

Do you, um... know how to put this on?

[nicehobbit]

[ Unsurprisingly, it's the children's wear that fits him best. It doesn't feel like he's close to drowning in it, so now all he needs to do is work out how to close it. Why are there no buttons? He sighs heavily, so caught up in his own annoyance that he almost doesn't hear John.

But he's honestly happy enough with having something else to focus on. He lifts his gaze to the skirt, and at first he thinks he must be seeing wrong. It's just a skirt. Surely that's self-explanatory? ]

Erm-- You simply ... put your legs through the hole and pull it up.

[dies_irate]

[ He looks down at his legs and then he looks at the skirt. After a moment, he'll frown and put the skirt on the ground, the 'hole' spread wide. Then he's leaning down to try and pull it up over his legs. It's a little tight on the wooly thighs, but he gets it past and he's able to secure it at his waist. It's not as thick as he would have liked but it's something to break the wind a little. He grunts in satisfaction. ]

Thanks.

[nicehobbit]

You're welcome.

[ What a curious being. ]

Have you never seen a skirt before?

[ ... Well, maybe clothes aren't all that universal. John doesn't really look like someone who'd need clothes, as such. Maybe his home isn't this cold. ]

[dies_irate]

Of course I've seen them.

[ Only a small huff as he turns to look at Frodo. ]

But I've never... seen them put on. Or, well... had a body to put one on. Clothing, separate clothing, is... new.

[ So is being cold. ]

[nicehobbit]

Oh.

[ He has to think about that for a second. Not what he expected. ]

You've never had a body?

[dies_irate]

[ A shake of his head. ]

No.

[ He'll open up the jacket again; it's a little too warm closed indoors. ]

And I've definitely never had legs.

[nicehobbit]

[ Huh ... ]

How did you get this one?

[dies_irate]

I don't know. I just... had it when I arrived here.

[ There's a distinct feeling of a frown. ]

I don't know why I didn't just go back with Arthur. He's here, after all.

[nicehobbit]

[ This is getting stranger and stranger. He can't think about clothes in this situation. ]

'Go back with'? What do you mean?

[dies_irate]

Arthur Lester is...

[ He isn't sure how to explain it, exactly, not without getting into a lot more confusing shit. The simplest way he has is- ]

...my other half. Together, we are whole.

Previous to this place, I shared his body with him. But he came here without me, somehow. And I... appeared like this, now that I'm here.

[ And it is so. fucking. disorienting. ]

[nicehobbit]

How strange that the body is not a more inconspicuous one.

[ He doesn't really know what to say, and it doesn't feel particularly profound, but ... What can he even say? Should he offer condolences? ]

[dies_irate]

...I mean, I'm not really...

[ A slightly huffy tone that he evens out. ]

What I once was has a form. And this is... reminiscent of it.

[nicehobbit]

Oh. I see.

[ Well, now he's sort of been invited to ask the question that sounds rude when unprompted. ]

What were you? If you don't mind me asking.

[ Because it still sounds kind of rude, but he is so curious about it that he may just burst. ]

[dies_irate]

A Great Old One. An ancient entity of great power known as the King in Yellow.
Hastur. He Who Is Not to be Named. Lord of Carcosa and ruler of the Dreamlands.

[ A pause. ]

Something terrible. Something I have no wish to be again. Now, I am John.

[nicehobbit]

[ That is quite the title. Like something out of legend, out of stories one would find in books, sung by elves, told by someone like Gandalf while on the road. 'John' certainly looks the part. Something otherworldly.

But Frodo has never heard of one who decided they wanted to be something else. Not that he can recall. ]

What is Carcosa?

[ Genuine curiosity. ]

[dies_irate]

[ Ugh. Words. Trying to explain things in language not designed for it. Not his favorite. ]

It is... me. But also my home. But also, potentially, anywhere.

[ A sigh. ]

Complicated.

[nicehobbit]

I see.

[ Not entirely, of course, because he understands that John is older than he truly can comprehend. It is also clear that trying to ask more questions won't make it clearer, if only from that sigh. ]

How long have you been 'John'?

[ Something about that idea - the idea of choosing to leave behind the fate you were handed - is enviable. Frodo doesn't have that option. Not anymore. ]

[dies_irate]

[ John's had to fight tooth and nail for his own decision. And he's paid for it, more than once. He'd be sympathetic if he knew. ]

A few months now. Less than a year.