logophobia

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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aphelion

ada

they/them

thirty-seven

october 11

lavender town

greysexual

secretary

civilian

5'7" (170.18 cm) height

if grief is an amputation, then hope is an incurable hemophilia

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adele veronesi

logophobia

POSTED ON Jun 13, 2024 18:47:28 GMT

they used to be good at this.

mouth falls open. a choked back word. mouth seals shut again, and adele takes a cautious sip of the pinap cider sitting in her hands. it's too sour. maybe something about the rind? could've been that it was fermented wrong. there's a nice warmth to it. maybe it would've done better with a little bit more cinnamon? star anise? they take another sip. they take a passing glance—a look from the corner of their eye, really—at the near-stranger that sits beside them at this oden stand as they return the plastic glass to the counter. fingertips play off an unsteady rhythm against the sides.

beneath the drum of the night market, they pick out the sound of their arms sticking to the counter.

they used to be good at this.

talking.

they don't really remember when it was that they became a first draft. a collection of half-finished thoughts and sentences that don't quite make it out into the final submission. that was every talking point they'd had available thus far if you could call anything that they'd talked about an actual exchange. nails rattle off a slightly louder rhythm. he was supposed to carry the conversation. he just has more questions instead.

( they forgot how talking works. )

adele never really has the answers. they say awkward, clumsy things instead:

they heard about this place from a coworker, but don't know if it's good. a quick search online said there were a few health code violations but the odds are pretty low that they'd get sick.
their real name is adele, but they're fine if he kept calling them apple. actually, no. they don't like when he calls them apple in person. it sounds weird and they'd prefer adele. ada's a non-starter.
it's weird that they serve cider here. they thought it would've been strictly traditional alcohol. the kind that would match the food.
they don't like this cider, either.

even the vendor seems uncomfortable. "sorry," comes the apology, uncertain. the tapping stops. the rattling starts. "maybe i should go."

Aris van der Veld

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null

He/Him

██ 27

April 4

████████ Mauville

Male-leaning Pansexual

Club Owner at Icarus

Undercover Grunt

perpetual slut era

6'3" height

Sipping Capri-Suns like a Dom Pérignon

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Aris van der Veld

logophobia

POSTED ON Jun 14, 2024 12:09:25 GMT

[nospaces]

[attr="class","blbqimg"]

[attr="class","header"]let it show, shine

[attr="class","setting"]

Unlike them, he used to be bad at this.[break][break]

For the longest time, he was only a shadow of a draft; keeping quiet and hiding behind his mother's legs was the best way to stay out of trouble, after all. Any words that had to come out of him were disconnected and feeble, and even when he grew a bit older, those words had turned harsh and biting. [break][break]

A decade ago, he was forced to change things around.[break][break]

Aris glances back at the person seated beside him as he nurses a beer in hand. He didn't make the same mistake of ordering a cider in a place like this and he was quick to judge Adele for doing so. He could have warned them, but a part of him thought where's the fun in that?[break][break]

He takes a sip of his drink. It feels odd to put a name on the person behind the screen, and it feels even odder to see them behave so unlike the brash persona that Aris is used to, but really, he's one to talk.[break][break]

"Is my company that bad?" he teases with a chuckle. Aris leans against the counter on his elbows as he rests his chin on one hand while the other lazily holds the cup by its rim. His Houndour, Nalia, sits on his lap with her eyes fixed on Adele. "Or is your cider making you regret some choices?"[break][break]

He's not letting them go that easy.[break]

[attr="class","oocnotes"] + adele veronesi [break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]
IRIS | Rapidash ♁ | RUN AWAY | SMART STRIKE - FLARE BLITZ - MEGA HORN - POISON JAB - QUICK ATTACK - AGILITY

NALIA | Houndour ♁ | FLASH FIRE | CRUNCH - NASTY PLOT - FLAMETHROWER - ROAR - SMOG - HOWL

SYDORA | Eevee ♁ | ADAPTABILITY | HELPING HAND - CHARM - LAST RESORT - SWIFT - BITE - COPYCAT

APOLLO | Skeledirge ♂︎ | BLAZE | TORCH SONG - FLAMETHROWER - OVERHEAT - HYPERVOICE - SCARY FACE - BITE

[attr="class","milkcredit"]milky

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played by

aphelion

ada

they/them

thirty-seven

october 11

lavender town

greysexual

secretary

civilian

5'7" (170.18 cm) height

if grief is an amputation, then hope is an incurable hemophilia

awards

29 posts

DOLLARS

part of

TAG WITH @adele

adele veronesi

logophobia

POSTED ON Jun 14, 2024 19:21:17 GMT

they didn't even like cider. they don't even know why they ordered one when all logic said they would've been better off with water. their eyes flick to him, then back ahead to the vendor, who pretends to not see them pleading with their eyes for an out. nervous tick. they hope it doesn't show. he seems like the type that would insist that they should have a drink. they've been to enough work outings to know.

maybe they're being unfair.

he just kind of looks like that kind of a person.

he was just that kind of a person. you're being unreasonable—nevermind. he won't let them leave.

they're not being unfair and the discomfort shows. sharp shoulder pinch together unintentionally, a half-open mouth sharpening into something halfway between a smile and a frown: they poorly conceal it with another nervous sip made with zero eye contact. the houndour staring doesn't help their nerves or their embarrassment anymore. another thoughtful sip. still too sour. still too sharp. not enough spice.

why does it feel worse being judged by a pokemon than it does by a person?

( their own sit dormant inside of their pokeballs hanging from a belt chain, unwelcome as to keep any of them from making things worse. )

"maybe," adele answers plainly, rigidly allowing the cup to return to the countertop. no point in pretending he was entirely pleasant to be around. index and middle finger taps the perimeter of the heated trays in a ' v ' and mochi kinchaku is exchanged in turn. maybe they should just eat. "you're easier to talk to online." they heft the pouch up off their plate and bite down, broth gushing out the sides. adele lifts a hand to catch it. just keep eating.

makes them think less.

"less of," a vague gesture with their dripping hand, "this. more of ..." another pause, and a thinly veiled attempt at trying to think of a word that didn't just point blank say he was a dick in-game. they take another bite instead.

Aris van der Veld

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played by

null

He/Him

██ 27

April 4

████████ Mauville

Male-leaning Pansexual

Club Owner at Icarus

Undercover Grunt

perpetual slut era

6'3" height

Sipping Capri-Suns like a Dom Pérignon

awards

54 posts

DOLLARS

part of

TAG WITH @aris

Aris van der Veld

logophobia

POSTED ON Jun 18, 2024 22:06:44 GMT

[nospaces]

[attr="class","blbqimg"]

[attr="class","header"]let it show, shine

[attr="class","setting"]

Aris can feel the non-existent rays of discomfort radiating from beside him as if he's sitting next to his Skeledirge using Overheat. But, he doesn't shy away from it; he's ready to fan the flames and roast some marshmallows.[break][break]

"Oh?" Aris prompts, quirking an eyebrow in judgment. "You always blame me for your mistakes. A conversation works both ways, smartass." No point in holding his thoughts back if they're not going to do so, either. [break][break]

To be honest, Aris agrees. Both of their words flow freely behind the safety of bright screens and anonymity, and he'd much rather go back to that freedom if Adele is going to look constipated each time they meet in real life. [break][break]

Though, admittedly, he does find their distress amusing.[break][break]

Aris observes their sloppy munch. He hasn't ordered any food for himself and is quite content with the beer in his hand. "What's making you so nervous? Never talked to a hot guy before?" he questions, batting his eyelashes dramatically.[break]

[attr="class","oocnotes"] + adele veronesi [break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]
IRIS | Rapidash ♁ | RUN AWAY | SMART STRIKE - FLARE BLITZ - MEGA HORN - POISON JAB - QUICK ATTACK - AGILITY

[attr="class","milkcredit"]milky

close tab

played by

aphelion

ada

they/them

thirty-seven

october 11

lavender town

greysexual

secretary

civilian

5'7" (170.18 cm) height

if grief is an amputation, then hope is an incurable hemophilia

awards

29 posts

DOLLARS

part of

TAG WITH @adele

adele veronesi

logophobia

POSTED ON Jun 20, 2024 5:48:46 GMT

they wipe off their hands with a napkin, half-listening as they nudge aside their cider in exchange for a sake and the sipping cup to go with it.

something better suited for the occasion.

though, from the way he doesn't move for anything to eat himself, they assume they won't be sharing this either. they need something to get them through the conversation. anything to preoccupy their attention until he gets bored. or, at least, until they're less worried about social convention and finding another reliable party member to leave. liquor is handed over and they watch as opaque rice wine exits neatly into the chipped ceramic. "i don't—" the pouring stalls as adele straightens their back.

is forced to reconcile their memories with their actions, then demurely continues:

"maybe i wouldn't if you would stop ganking me."

they take a sip. this is better, "or if you could actually defend the towers." much better. it's smoother than they expect. the thought briefly occurs to them that that just might be dangerous. they take another sip. pour a little more. tap the counter for another mochi kinchaku to stave the conversation. adele nearly snorts the sake up their nose, hand lifting to hide their face as they stifle a laugh. slate-gray eyes peek over the top of their hand, the corners crinkling with quiet laughter.

"i can't believe that's something you said. outloud."

Aris van der Veld