[PRP] Pyramid Skein (Horace & Oliver)

[The Semblance of Unity]

Horace was, of all places, at a yarn store. He didn't knit or corchet, even though a therapist had briefly suggested he take it up. Working with yarn reminded him too much of Oklahoma and his grandmother. But he had to come because his stupid partner for Magic and Law Enforcement decided their project needed to be completed in yarn. He was tempted to ask the professor if he could do it by himself. He clicked the ball of his tongue piecing against his teeth, wincing.

He reached into a bin, hoping some magical ball of yarn would appear and do his project for him. But, alas, instead he bumped hands with another person. Horace immediately jerked his hand back, but not before a zap of static electricity passed between the two. "I'm sorry, please, go-" He looked up. "Oliver?"

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Honestly, it had been a while since Ollie devoted any real time to his hobbies. He had made a few nic-nacks here and there, but his supplies were woefully low and Shiloh had requested he knit him together another beanie (stop giving them away to your boyfriend then, a*****e idiot). Okay, Oliver didn't really mind—he liked this sort of s**t a lot because it was mundane and peaceful and good busy work for his hands—but he did mind going out in public when his face was, well—

"Sorry—!" He jerked his hand back at the same time, though his surprise was definitely more from the static shock rather than anything. Nursing his "wounded" hand, his head snapped up to look at a rather familiar face. At least, Oliver of course recognized Horace.

And Horace seemed to recognize him too, despite the blackened bruised spread across the center of his face. Whoever had cold-cocked him had got him good. As a result his facial expressions were a bit lacking, but his eyes widened a little despite it.

He regarded him slowly. "I..." awkward, "Hello." He glanced away, obviously embarrassed with his face (but at least he was lacking the ears, even though the 10th drawing ever nearer was giving him some extreme anxiety; at least the bruise hid the bags).

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Horace stared at Oliver, vaguely horrified by the bruise that spread over his face. "Oliver, dude,.." He paused, then thought better of what he had been going to ask. "Who got you with the business end of a two by four?" Don't make assumptions, he told himself sternly.

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[Melancholies]

Oliver winced because he saw the question coming, but also because it wasn't the first time. He hadn't stopped going into work and he got plenty of stares there—not to mention fielding questions from his brother and his roommate and Jamie.

"It's..." He looked around, hand still gripped around a loose skein of yarn, "Complicated." The expression he offered was a little apologetic as he went back to browsing the selections, trying to act casual, be normal, it's whatever. This was the answer he gave when he didn't feel like talking about it, but Horace wasn't necessarily a bad guy; wasn't a stranger, at the very least.

"Well, I guess not." He sighed. "Someone whacked me, obviously." He eyed another skein, this one dyed in a way that the thread melded through a plethora of autumnal colors. He held onto it. "Not really sure why, but it hurts like a son of a b***h."

Except he was sort of sure why, even if it didn't make much sense of him.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"They didn't say why?" Horace frowned. "Wait, did you get mugged?" Unlike Oliver, he couldn't return his attention to the yarn.

"Have you witch hazeled it?"

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[Melancholies]

"Mugged?" He was still staring down at the yarn, the facade of his nonchalance only given away by how hollow his eyes looked. He shook his head, "Not quite, no, she didn't take anything from me. Never tried to."

As he slowly shuffled down the large basket that divided the aisle, he gave a nod towards a section in the back. It was blessedly empty given the time of day; only a few seats were attended to. Oliver had started to make his ways towards it.

"What's witch hazel?" He looked to Horace curiously as he moved to claim his own table, bag set on top as he started to fish out a number of crochet supplies. Honestly, he was better when it came to knitting, but that's what practice was for right?

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

He followed behind Oliver obediently, sliding out a chair for himself. "So someone ran up, punched you, and took off?" Horace sounded a bit skeptical. After a moment, he wriggled around to pull off his backpack. A loud crinkle of paper filled the air as he rummaged through it.

Finally, he pulled out a plastic bottle. "This," he said. "-is witch hazel. It helps with bruises. You just put it all over your face." Horace nudged the bottle towards Oliver expectantly. Then, he seemed to notice that Oliver was actually doing something with yarn.

"What're you making?"

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"Yeah, kind of actually." He laughed, "It's kinda weird to explain, I guess. Weird shapeshifter stuff." He was lacking the ears, but probably not for long. His voice dropped as he went on, "Moonwalkers can identify each other by touch? It's a really personal feeling, kinda warm, gives you a sense of family. I can't really put it into words."

He continued to fiddle with the yarn, duly noting the bottle that Horace had produced. "I didn't know she was one, she didn't know I was one. We bumped into each other and I guess she took it really poorly." Shrug.

"I guess it's not my place. Just 'cause I like it doesn't mean everyone does. I guess it's sort of a moot point at this rate." Oliver popped the lid on the bottle and gave it an uncertain sniff. It was... distinct? Earthy. He tilted the bottle to dab some experimentally on his fingertips. "Anyway, I was just making a hat for my brother. He likes beanies, but he keeps giving them away to his boyfriend like an idiot." This made Oliver scoff, "He should keep one at least. I work hard on these."

Realistically, he wasn't that mad about it, even if his exhaustion and irritability made it sound as such.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Pour it on your face," he suggested. "Just douse yourself." It was definitely not the intended use and he didn't think Oliver would do it, but... His lips quirked.

More seriously, Horace considered the idea of a 'touch family'. "You never met her before? And, well, I guess it all depends on how people feel about family and warmth and stuff. I don't think I'd mind it, but we both know I'm not a moonwalker." If he was, they'd have felt it when he was fondling Oliver's ears. Which was honestly kind of an embarrassing thought, but the ears had been super soft.

"So you're really making hats for his boyfriend," he said. Horace didn't really understand how all it worked together. Sure, his grandmother had tried to teach him once upon a time (he'd produced a hideously lumpy doily), but he didn't remember now. "Does the rabbit lose the hats or just have this hoard of Oliver hats, now?" He hmmed for a moment.

"If I pay you, could you make me one? It's okay if you don't wanna, of course." His smile was a bit sheepish.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Oliver was definitely no fool; he'd do research whenever he got home on the stuff, but for now he was content with recapping it and setting it to the side. Honestly, he had a lot of doubt for home remedies, but in a world with magic... well, who the ******** knew right?

"I think it's more that Shiloh lets him borrow them and never asks for them back." He pursed his lips a little as he started mussing with his bag again, "Or he just loses them. He isn't really the more organized person in the world." The laugh he gave was one part amused two parts exasperation. "Because honestly, there's only like one or two that Jamie actually wears on a daily basis, I think."

Still, he was smiling a little to himself (even though any degree of facial expression produced a discomforting sensation, if not outright pain). "Would you really want one? I mean, I can get them done pretty fast. They're good quality too." Oliver was never one to undersell himself, after all. "Hats are what I have the most, uh, practice with (thanks Shiloh) but I can make scarves, leg warmers, lots of stuff." He waved his hand vaguely. "Anything with internet how-to instructions."

He thought about this for a moment. "If you buy the yarn I'll make you something. That bin was full of discount stuff."

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Horace shook his head. "I hate losing stuff - it makes me antsy, you know? Sounds like Jaime is like a dryer that eats socks." He frowned. "That doesn't sound very flattering to him, sorry. I didn't mean it that way." He watched as Oliver messed with his bag. Crocheting didn't necessarily 'fit' the man, but it made it more interesting, he supposed. But then again, Horace already found Oliver interesting.

His face lit up. "You would be willing to? And... oh, you can make leg warmers?" They'd look utterly ridiculous on him, which was part of their selling point. Horace never did managed the whole fashionable thing, preferring 'bright' to 'matching'.

"For you, Oliver, I'd buy full price," he said seductively. However, his lips twitched, betrayed the laugh he was holding in.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Might not have been flattering, but it made Ollie laugh. "I really do think it's more Shiloh than Jamie, but hell." He wheezed, hand covering his mouth like he was trying to stop smiling. It hurt goddammit.

"But yeah, I can make leg warm—ers?" He went from laughing to gawking, except then he was laughing again (albeit with a dumb red tinge to his face because he was so, so easily flustered). "Cut that s**t out!" He was snickering still though, "Hurts my goddamn face." Plus, they were in public, and he was trying to keep it quiet out of respect.

It was pretty uplifting though, given that he hadn't done much but mope since the whole fist-in-the-face thing.

"I've never actually made 'em for myself, b-but I could do them." He cleared his throat as he tried to regain his composure, "You can um... make lots of really neat patterns with them too. Flowers and cute stuff like that." He nudged his foot against the leg of the table, "Anything really."

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Horace face broke into a smile and then he was laughing, too. "But you're worth every penny, Oliver!" The phrase came out in bits and pieces, which completely ruined his mock-sexy vibe. It was nice to see Oliver neither a nervous wreck nor moping.

"Sorry," he said, not sorry at all. "Want me to find the girl and key her car or something?" Horace stretched out his long legs under the table, accidentally knocking his feet into Oliver's. "Hmmm, flowers... I'm not actually very good at the fashion sort of things." His backpack was a bright pink and orange paisley and his sweater had a seagull on it with a speech bubble that read 'hello sailor'. Top that off with red glasses and an undercut and it was just kind of... nothing ever matched with him.

"So what have you made for yourself, then? And you could do whatever for the pattern; I will love anything." He grinned.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

He was rolling his eyes, "I met her in Otherworld, so I don't even know where she lives let alone how to find her car." He jumped slightly whenever Horace's feet knocked into his own, though he wrote it off as an accident. Oliver wasn't tall, but he was sure having longer legs like Horace did meant for a lot of clumsy antics. Probably.

"But I'll probably run into her again, inevitably. Moonwalker stuff." He sighed, "But it's whatever. C'est la vie and all that bullshit." He finally managed to unearth a pair of needles from his bag, and then part of the aforementioned unfinished hat before setting to work on it. His fingers were dexterous and precise; it was obvious that he had done this sort of thing a lot—for a while, even.

Regardless, he was glad for the topic change. "I've made myself scarves mostly. Made a cardigan once but that took forever." He smiled a little at the yarn in front of him as he thought about it, "But I wanted to make sure I did it right, since I was gonna wear it and whatever." And after a moment of consideration, he elaborated, "We didn't have much money growing up 'n stuff, so we made a lot of our own stuff. Learned sewing as a necessity 'cause Shiloh kept tearing holes in his clothes, eventually got into this special sort of bullshit." He laughed a little, "But it's nice. Relaxing even. I'm guessing you're not into this stuff despite browsing around in a yarn store." He glanced up at Horace, only to get a little worked up again, "Sorry, I don't usually talk so much." He laughed again, not really seeming that sorry for it, only surprised at himself.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Well, you'll have others with you during moonwalker stuff, right? She wouldn't hit you again, right?" Horace was genuinely worried. Nobody deserved to be hit, even if the person hitting had done so in a panic. He didn't really understand if all, but Oliver was alright. But he didn't ask any more questions.

He watched as Oliver began working on the hat. It was kind of magical how rows just kind of... formed. "Do you still have the cardigan? And you're right, I'm not really into the whole... yarn thing. I can sew and, uh, cross stitch." Horace shrugged and pulled out an embroidery hoop. The canvas was covered with a half-finished pattern. "And you're not talking too much - is that even a thing?" If so, Horace would be guilty of talking too much a hundred times over.

"I was just here because I got paired with someone who wanted to do our project with yarn." He sighed melodramatically. "It's a magic class, for ******** sake."

melancholies