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middaeg2021-01-04 09:58 pm
hearthebell) wrote in middaeg2021-01-04 09:58 pm
Entry tags:
First Week of January Catchall
Who: L Lawliet (Linden Tailor) and YOU
When: First week of Ieneur
Where: Various places
What: Catchall, for old and new CR
Warnings: None to speak of yet, will update if that changes
I. The Orphanage
[Even thrill-chasers can be happier when their lives settle into some kind of routine. For a time, that was true for L, and it’s served as an anchor for him through the festivities of Modranicht when so many are with their loved ones exchanging thoughtfully selected gifts and homemade food. Now that the orphanage has achieved some kind of substantial funding, it’s the first time many of the children have experienced any level of wonder associated with the season, and the staff all did their part to contribute to it, keeping fairly busy.
Regarding the staff, of course, there’s always been a vague sense that L doesn’t fit in. The children appreciate that he’s not like all the other adults and has a different and creative way of thinking about things, of course. His colleagues appreciate that about him, too, but there’s also the sense that they think of him, at times, almost as one of the children. It comes out in small ways; surprise when he shows interest in volunteering or partaking in something, awkward fumbling to explain when he overhears that there are after-work plans excluding him.
Hands not being broken, he would have been able to help wrap Modranicht gifts if he’d been told they were all collaborating to do it. While it’s likely he would decline, he notices never being invited to join the staff for drinks biweekly. While he runs his classes with relative freedom to cover the subject matter and approach it as he sees fit, he often finds out about schedule or policy changes right along with the kids, instead of at the meetings committed to deciding those changes. It’s confirmation of something he’s always actually known, that he lacks charisma and social skills and general likability, but the more involved in the micro-community of the orphanage he gets, the reminder gets a little heavier each day.
Having never needed to try, before, there was no shame in failing. Now that he’s trying, and failing, he’s stopped looking forward to work, and started looking forward to when he can go home, or any number of places along the way.
Maybe you’re here dropping off a donation. Maybe you’re volunteering your time, or you’re actually employed here, like “Linden.” Either way, the lanky, pale man with a mop of shaggy hair treats you a bit warily, whether or not you’ve met before.]
Did you need something?
[Brusque. Not quite hostile, but the day is almost over. His reserves are almost spent, and it’s difficult to be pleasant on empty.]
II. The Entertainment District
[L cuts through this district every day after work. Essentially at the city’s center, it makes for a fairly straight cut to the Haven, and sometimes he goes straight home. Sometimes, he strays a bit, looking for a performer doing something impressive and difficult that requires a steady hand and years of practice, or failing that, a quiet and discreet drink in a dark bar to take the edge off a difficult day.
Never enough to truly dull it, of course. Never enough to hint to the Bonded he’s connected to that he actually needs it, and besides, a shot of cheap liquor on an empty stomach goes a long way, for the money and the burn.
Maybe you’re a performer, or watching one right along with him. Maybe you’re also enjoying a discreet drink in a dive bar on your way home. Maybe you’ve caught him in between points and you work in this district and you’re selling a good or service you hope to ply him with. Either way, there’s a hollow-eyed witch who seems like any diversion is worth changing the tone of his life, at least for a little while.]
Tell me...
[It’s the question at the front of his mind, for the performer or the audience, the incidental companion drinker or the bartender, and the seller of your ware or service, all the same.]
Are you exactly where you intended to go, at present, or creating an extra step to avoid getting there sooner than you must?
III. The Coven
[Sometimes, early before work or on the weekends, L puts in extra time studying at the Coven. He likes the academic setting, the quiet corners, the hundreds of books he can burn through with his fast and ferocious wit.
Myr’s Modranicht gift was thoughtful, kind, and useful. L’s foregone his hodgepodge of other tools for the new set, matching and elegant and tailored to his specific technique for casting magic that leans heavily on etching and engraving runes. He doesn’t fail to notice that the blade in the kit is wrapped in golden ribbon, sealed at the ends with beeswax as if to gently discourage him from using it to bite into his own convenient store of witch’s blood. He doesn’t unravel it today, for at least the reason that his skipped meals and over-caffeinated state of hyperfocus don’t lend well to even small amounts of blood loss, though there’s probably more to it. There usually is, where Myr is concerned; as a rule, L actively tries to avoid displeasing or disappointing Myr, however certain he is that he will fail. There comes a point, after all, when one has reached the limit of what he can give, or do, or become. Efforts come to yield smaller returns, until there’s a plateau, or even a decline.
He sits in one one of the classes for advanced illusion, breaking in his new tools, taking heart at least in the fact that he can rely on his penchant for acquiring and applying knowledge. He hasn’t peaked, or plateaued, or declined in this regard; there’s more he can show Light, and neither of them will grow bored. The pair of illusory cockroaches on the table in front of him, maneuvering in intricate and perfect tandem, really do seem limited only by what his mind can do, and in truth, that’s the set of limitations that he prefers, even if he detests roaches.
If you’re in class together, he’ll notice if you’re struggling, and offer to help you get the hang of it. Having flawed technique and having to settle for mediocrity is unbearable; he knows that better than anyone.]
[IV. Dream (for Bonded knowledge and/or interaction)]
This particular dream started when Light arrived. Since then, it’s grown more frequent and vivid, to the point where even on nights L doesn’t clearly remember his dreams, he’s nearly positive that he had the same one, again, old paths doggedly retraced.
A brilliant, warm sun has melted the snow and brought an entire ecosystem’s cacophony with it, cycles of life and death mingling hidden in the bordering forest’s dense branches. There are distant suggestions of cracking eggshells, rattling serpents and rodent shrieks alike; predator and prey engaged in an endless and entrancing dance.
Not that L has the time to listen, or investigate, or muse, or even notice if one of his Bonded has ended up here with him. He’s too busy kneeling at the edge of the lake, which seems to have gotten both larger and murkier. He’s attempting, always, to repair the shrinking ice floats and re-glaze the surface of a lake where dead fish float to the surface, unable to adapt to water that just isn’t as cold and clean as it used to be. The ice almost seems to melt faster than he can create it, though, or at least just fast enough that his efforts are largely in vain in spite of the tremendous and exhausting strain. His rests are infrequent but desperately needed, and sorely bought; the Leviathan hasn’t gone anywhere, won’t die seemingly out of spite, and finds this whole process very agitating. Its scaly ridges suggesting only a sliver of its total mass surface periodically, and sometimes L has to move quickly to avoid whatever bit of ground he’s standing on crumbling out from under him as a result of the beast’s jaws or thrashing. As it chips away at the grass and soil surrounding the lake, the amount of ground remaining to stand on diminishes, pushing anyone who doesn’t want to end up in the water back toward the dense and deafening forest.
It’s small wonder, really, that he wakes up these days feeling as though he hasn’t slept at all, putting on a pot of coffee for the strongest possible start.]
[V. Wildcard]
[Don’t see it? Want it? Have at it! Throw a prompt my way or hit me up on discord at ladylazarus#2235 to plot something out with me.]
When: First week of Ieneur
Where: Various places
What: Catchall, for old and new CR
Warnings: None to speak of yet, will update if that changes
I. The Orphanage
[Even thrill-chasers can be happier when their lives settle into some kind of routine. For a time, that was true for L, and it’s served as an anchor for him through the festivities of Modranicht when so many are with their loved ones exchanging thoughtfully selected gifts and homemade food. Now that the orphanage has achieved some kind of substantial funding, it’s the first time many of the children have experienced any level of wonder associated with the season, and the staff all did their part to contribute to it, keeping fairly busy.
Regarding the staff, of course, there’s always been a vague sense that L doesn’t fit in. The children appreciate that he’s not like all the other adults and has a different and creative way of thinking about things, of course. His colleagues appreciate that about him, too, but there’s also the sense that they think of him, at times, almost as one of the children. It comes out in small ways; surprise when he shows interest in volunteering or partaking in something, awkward fumbling to explain when he overhears that there are after-work plans excluding him.
Hands not being broken, he would have been able to help wrap Modranicht gifts if he’d been told they were all collaborating to do it. While it’s likely he would decline, he notices never being invited to join the staff for drinks biweekly. While he runs his classes with relative freedom to cover the subject matter and approach it as he sees fit, he often finds out about schedule or policy changes right along with the kids, instead of at the meetings committed to deciding those changes. It’s confirmation of something he’s always actually known, that he lacks charisma and social skills and general likability, but the more involved in the micro-community of the orphanage he gets, the reminder gets a little heavier each day.
Having never needed to try, before, there was no shame in failing. Now that he’s trying, and failing, he’s stopped looking forward to work, and started looking forward to when he can go home, or any number of places along the way.
Maybe you’re here dropping off a donation. Maybe you’re volunteering your time, or you’re actually employed here, like “Linden.” Either way, the lanky, pale man with a mop of shaggy hair treats you a bit warily, whether or not you’ve met before.]
Did you need something?
[Brusque. Not quite hostile, but the day is almost over. His reserves are almost spent, and it’s difficult to be pleasant on empty.]
II. The Entertainment District
[L cuts through this district every day after work. Essentially at the city’s center, it makes for a fairly straight cut to the Haven, and sometimes he goes straight home. Sometimes, he strays a bit, looking for a performer doing something impressive and difficult that requires a steady hand and years of practice, or failing that, a quiet and discreet drink in a dark bar to take the edge off a difficult day.
Never enough to truly dull it, of course. Never enough to hint to the Bonded he’s connected to that he actually needs it, and besides, a shot of cheap liquor on an empty stomach goes a long way, for the money and the burn.
Maybe you’re a performer, or watching one right along with him. Maybe you’re also enjoying a discreet drink in a dive bar on your way home. Maybe you’ve caught him in between points and you work in this district and you’re selling a good or service you hope to ply him with. Either way, there’s a hollow-eyed witch who seems like any diversion is worth changing the tone of his life, at least for a little while.]
Tell me...
[It’s the question at the front of his mind, for the performer or the audience, the incidental companion drinker or the bartender, and the seller of your ware or service, all the same.]
Are you exactly where you intended to go, at present, or creating an extra step to avoid getting there sooner than you must?
III. The Coven
[Sometimes, early before work or on the weekends, L puts in extra time studying at the Coven. He likes the academic setting, the quiet corners, the hundreds of books he can burn through with his fast and ferocious wit.
Myr’s Modranicht gift was thoughtful, kind, and useful. L’s foregone his hodgepodge of other tools for the new set, matching and elegant and tailored to his specific technique for casting magic that leans heavily on etching and engraving runes. He doesn’t fail to notice that the blade in the kit is wrapped in golden ribbon, sealed at the ends with beeswax as if to gently discourage him from using it to bite into his own convenient store of witch’s blood. He doesn’t unravel it today, for at least the reason that his skipped meals and over-caffeinated state of hyperfocus don’t lend well to even small amounts of blood loss, though there’s probably more to it. There usually is, where Myr is concerned; as a rule, L actively tries to avoid displeasing or disappointing Myr, however certain he is that he will fail. There comes a point, after all, when one has reached the limit of what he can give, or do, or become. Efforts come to yield smaller returns, until there’s a plateau, or even a decline.
He sits in one one of the classes for advanced illusion, breaking in his new tools, taking heart at least in the fact that he can rely on his penchant for acquiring and applying knowledge. He hasn’t peaked, or plateaued, or declined in this regard; there’s more he can show Light, and neither of them will grow bored. The pair of illusory cockroaches on the table in front of him, maneuvering in intricate and perfect tandem, really do seem limited only by what his mind can do, and in truth, that’s the set of limitations that he prefers, even if he detests roaches.
If you’re in class together, he’ll notice if you’re struggling, and offer to help you get the hang of it. Having flawed technique and having to settle for mediocrity is unbearable; he knows that better than anyone.]
[IV. Dream (for Bonded knowledge and/or interaction)]
This particular dream started when Light arrived. Since then, it’s grown more frequent and vivid, to the point where even on nights L doesn’t clearly remember his dreams, he’s nearly positive that he had the same one, again, old paths doggedly retraced.
A brilliant, warm sun has melted the snow and brought an entire ecosystem’s cacophony with it, cycles of life and death mingling hidden in the bordering forest’s dense branches. There are distant suggestions of cracking eggshells, rattling serpents and rodent shrieks alike; predator and prey engaged in an endless and entrancing dance.
Not that L has the time to listen, or investigate, or muse, or even notice if one of his Bonded has ended up here with him. He’s too busy kneeling at the edge of the lake, which seems to have gotten both larger and murkier. He’s attempting, always, to repair the shrinking ice floats and re-glaze the surface of a lake where dead fish float to the surface, unable to adapt to water that just isn’t as cold and clean as it used to be. The ice almost seems to melt faster than he can create it, though, or at least just fast enough that his efforts are largely in vain in spite of the tremendous and exhausting strain. His rests are infrequent but desperately needed, and sorely bought; the Leviathan hasn’t gone anywhere, won’t die seemingly out of spite, and finds this whole process very agitating. Its scaly ridges suggesting only a sliver of its total mass surface periodically, and sometimes L has to move quickly to avoid whatever bit of ground he’s standing on crumbling out from under him as a result of the beast’s jaws or thrashing. As it chips away at the grass and soil surrounding the lake, the amount of ground remaining to stand on diminishes, pushing anyone who doesn’t want to end up in the water back toward the dense and deafening forest.
It’s small wonder, really, that he wakes up these days feeling as though he hasn’t slept at all, putting on a pot of coffee for the strongest possible start.]
[V. Wildcard]
[Don’t see it? Want it? Have at it! Throw a prompt my way or hit me up on discord at ladylazarus#2235 to plot something out with me.]
no subject
Alright, that's what I needed to see. [He sits, posture now fully relaxed and at ease, and lays his arm on L's work surface beside his tools. He's looking forward to this now actually. He'd rather enjoyed the sensation of getting tattooed last time, and now that he knew this was safe, he's glad he'll get to feel it again.] Feel free to work your magic.
no subject
L turns his back on the board with just one backward glance, as though concerned that it might move by itself in his absence, but ultimately returns to the table. He leans forward to examine the tattoo and glances over the places that need retouching, the places he can add the new runes. Reliably, it's as he remembered it.
He nods briskly, taking up his tools. Niles, he'd learned, wasn't the sort he needed to warn about the expected small amount of discomfort.]
If there are other ways you want this piece to function, you know... runes are versatile. I could probably figure something out.
no subject
Anti divination comes to mind, altough...[He gestures at the apples, then reaches out for the fresher one. He turns it in his hand to get a better look at the symbol, properly committing its shape to memory.]
Only if we do something like that again. So I know what's going on me. This one means 'slow' then?
no subject
Really determined to defend against me, in particular, are you?
[He sighs, as though he considers this wasteful.]
This one means "preservation", in so many words. It's combined with another one that means "slow", or... at least, close to that. In so many words. Together, with an adhesive rune, they do this.
[He gestures, briefly, to the apples, before continuing mapping out Niles' tattoo.]
no subject
Adhesive...[The preserve and slow runes are both novel on the knife, but as L points it out, he can see the one conjoining the two letters peppered along the edge of the blade sandwiched between a variety of other letters.] So what are all these other pairs then?