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[baedalites]

Who: EVERYONE.
What: Swap meet.
Where: The Apache and surrounding environs.
When: Sukkardi the 14th of Haneden
Notes:

• Swap Meet Spreadsheet: Pre-chosen swaps are green. Assigned are blue. There were a few characters that were selected more than once, so objects were assigned on a first-come first-serve basis. If you have any issues or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact the mod team.
• For objects that might not be immediately apparent as belonging to their owners, there may be a picture or name attached, or players are welcome to have their characters ~just know~ it's for them. Drr drr drr, bb.
• Party post nights are a great time to come join the chatroom.
• The topic threads are just suggestions; if you've got somewhere else that your characters simply must be, make your own thread.

Warnings: None yet. Please put warnings up on individual threads.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap.

Comments

[walkinemptylands]

He does take a step or two forward, but only one or two --he's not stupid by any means, but he's not quite sure what else to do either. The dagger is for him, that much is clear. He only wished he'd been given a better opportunity to do this.

"Do you know the story of that tree?" he asks, finger pointing to the leather marking, hurrying on before he can be interrupted. "Yavanna sang the Two Trees into existence after Melkor destroyed the the only sources of light in the world. One tree gave off a golden light and the other one, Telperion, was silver and more favoured by the elves. So Yavanna made another tree, identical in every way except for the light, to stand in the city of Tirion."

"It had a seedling named Celeborn planted in Tol Eressëa. And from that seedling came Nimloth, the White tree of Númenor. When Sauron took control, he had it chopped down. But one fruit was saved by Isildur, and from that came the White Tree of Gondor."

He stops, mouth dry after his slightly hurried tale, one that deserves more telling, and seems to keep his eyes on the dagger sheath rather than Hellboy. He's not sure what's going to come next.

[hehaseatenthepancake]

Hellboy closes the distance himself, quickly standing and looming over Brian, tension writ large all across his massive frame. It's not easy for a voice like his to be quiet, per se, but he manages to pitch it into a low rumble that is at least as dangerous-sounding as his regular voice.

"You got a lot of brass, pal, I'll give you that. Yeah, I know the story. The guy who told it to me looked a lot like you, and I had to help put him in the ground just last week. Now, I've been trying real hard to keep my temper under control, but this cryptic bullshit is not funny. Speak your piece, or go away."

[walkinemptylands]

"I am him." He does his best to seem steady as he says it, and God only knows he's been up against worse opponents in either one of his lifetimes, but he knows that if anyone is going to come off worse in this fight, it's definitely going to be him.

"Look, I-- There's no easy way to say this, believe me. This city has a cruel sense of humour and I wish I knew how to handle this, but I am him. I was him. It's --uh." This whole thing is ridiculous and awful and he's this close to stomping up to one of the temples and glowering if he thought it would do him any good. "The war that he --I-- was fighting ended, but thousands and thousands of years later the forces of evil have started to move again. We were called back, we were re-born. Re-incarnated, if you want. Me, Faramir. Our friends."

Please do not smush him into the ground, good sir.

[hehaseatenthepancake]

To say that Brian's initial statement was enough to boil over Hellboy's temper would be putting it lightly, but at the same time, it kindles a bit of hope that he didn't consciously realize he was harboring. It's not like Hellboy hasn't seen how life and what lies beyond isn't always so cut and dried. He himself had come back from the dead once. The conflict between blinding rage and uncertain hope leaves him simply stunned, slack-jawed and incredulous while the rest of Brian's explanation rattles around in his head hollowly. I am him. Re-incarnated, if you want.

In the moment of silence that follows, Hellboy's temper is sufficiently cooled that his reply, rather than coming from his fists, is instead a rather incredulous, "No way." With the tension broken, he lets out a gruff chuckle, that skepticism mixed with the hopeful and why not and the curiosity that makes him an investigator and not just a monster-killing thug. "Prove it."

It's a challenge, but it's also a chance.

[walkinemptylands]

Oh that's just great. That's just great-- he had to think back thousands of years ago, to another lifetime, when his memories of this place weren't even that clear. There's a beat of silence as he considers what he can remember of the Guild Hall, the missions, the offices--

Their desks.

"There's a picture on your desk. An old black and white one. You were just a baby, I think? Small, anyway. And you were surrounded by soldiers, and your father."

[hehaseatenthepancake]

There are only a few people outside the guild who know about the picture. Certainly no one who would just blab about it to a newly-arrived stranger, no matter how familiar his face may be. It's good enough proof for Hellboy.

"Well, son of a gun," he says, with his terrible smile. "How the hell are you?" He steps back out of Brian's space to get a better look at him, then picks up the dagger and presents it on the palm of his mighty right hand. "Guess I get to give this to you, then. Again."