Intro Log: May

[moustre]

Intro Log: May, Game Start

I. ARRIVAL Out of nowhere, a glint of light catches your eye; your heart thunders in your ears as your body moves on its own, your mind consumed with inspecting the source. Your reflection stares back at you, just as curious from the surface - a mirror, a pool of water, your most trusted sword, something fleeting that your mind can barely remember - then ripples at your touch. A moment later, you feel a tug, and you find yourself stumbling into a dark, musty room. Behind you, a mirror stands ornately decorated with reminders of home wrought in brass and wood: the faces of people you know, and symbols important to you; all things that send a pang through your chest with the desire to return to them. Touching the mirror's surface does nothing but leave the stain of your fingerprints. When you turn turn to survey the room, you find there are hundreds of other mirrors. None of them are as decorated as yours - they're plain and dusty, speckled with age. Then you realize a second thing: You're not alone. Distantly, the ringing bell of a clocktower can be heard. But no matter its distance, the time is clear to make out: it chimes three times, stark, resonating like a pulse of something in this mirrored hall that you and many others have found yourselves in. For those familiar with magic, they might feel the power of the witching hour upon them, though it will feel different from what they're used to - in fact, everything does. Besides the new arrivals, however, there's one more person in the building, and only one. A young teen stands; previously bored and mulish, he's now owl-eyed and slackjawed as he takes in each arrival, either from the mirrors or coming from another floor as you try to get your bearings. In his hands he's clutching a broom like a security blanket, until - "M... Miss Nessie! Miss Nessie, something's happened!" he yells, as he drops the broom and turns tail out of the building. Leaving the Looking-Glass House makes it obvious that the clock striking three was for 3 AM - the night sky is clear, but the stars are dim in the face of two moons, regardless of their waning crescent phases. Follow, or explore the rest of the mirrored halls you've now found yourselves in? The Looking-Glass House is rather nondescript two-story cottage made of grey brick, sitting at the edge of The Coven's courtyard; stones which glow as you step on them mark the path to and from the two buildings. While fairly small and plain on the outside, the inside has been enchanted to be the size of a large library, with hundreds upon hundreds of mirrors hanging, standing, and resting inside its walls. Some are broken, some are cracked, and some seem completely uninjured - but all of them are just as plain as the cottage itself, showing age in the silver beneath their glass and in the greening of their metals... Well, all except a character's personal mirror; to characters, one mirror - the one they came through - will be decorated lavishly with metal-and-wood-wrought reminders of home, and the surface will be as clear as a brand-new mirror.

II. "MISS NESSIE" Whether you've decided to follow the hapless young man, or decided to explore the rest of the Looking-Glass House - and perhaps finding a few familiar faces among the crowd - you feel a pull towards the foyer of the first floor. It's like a firm suggestion, as if to take you by the hand and draw you to where it begins, and the source of it becomes quite apparent upon finding one's way to the front room: a tall, comfortably-dressed older woman and her even taller wolfish companion. The woman covers her mouth with a soft "Oh my!" as she surveys those who begin to crowd in, and she turns to the werewolf (?), lowering her hand once more. (The handful of others who'd come with her peer as best they can from a ways behind her with unconcealed curiosity, closer to the door out than not. The boy previously seen before he ran off can be spotted at the very back of the group.) "This is right unexpected, isn't it?" She not-quite whispers, delight and confusion in equal measure in her voice. Her companion makes a quiet noise in her throat, unscarred eye narrowed - it's hard to tell if that delight is one shared by both parties. "Well, they've always said the veil is thinner during Boaltinn... We'll have to talk to James and see if he was doing anything other than cleaning, we will, but for now, we've got a full house to attend to, don't we? Ah, if they're all Witches, that'll be something, it will!" Without wasting another beat - much to the fond irritation of her companion, certainly - the woman turns back to the newcomers of Aefenglom, clapping her hands together in glee. "Well then! I'm certain you all have many, many questions... As do we! First thing's first, though, first thing's first! I am Nerissa Bell, the Head Witch of the Coven - that's where this house is located right now, on Coven grounds - and this is my Bonded, Mhairi Ainsley. Don't worry, she's a right softie despite her looks! You can simply call me Miss Nessie - everyone does, short of those stuffy folks up in the Parliament, but, well, that's just how things are with them, I suppose." She pauses a beat, for breath, before continuing with a wave of her hand; dozens of chairs and stools, all surprisingly comfortable despite their wooden looks, are conjured in an instant, and Nessie smiles wide as she gives a small bow. "Take a seat, and let's get familiar with one another for a spell! The city'll celebrate without us one way or another, and we've already finished our business for tonight anyway. Isn't that right, Mhairi dear?" Despite the onslaught of information and excitement at three in the morning, Mhairi inclines her head slightly after a huge sigh; her voice is likely exactly as expected, low and akin to a growl. "Best to take advantage of the distraction. Let's begin, before I have to report this to Parliament." NOTE: If you wish to interact with Nessie and Mhairi, please comment here. You have the option of handwaving the IC interaction to OOCly ask what questions your character might have for them, for us to summarize an answer for, or you can request an IC thread. Simply specify in your comment's subject and we'll respond accordingly.

III. THE COVEN After an hour or two of general chaos, questions that the natives attempt to help with, and injuries tended to for those who arrive in poor condition, a solution is presented. Though they certainly can't answer every question, Nerissa and Mhairi promise to help find the answers, and open the doors of the Coven to all new arrivals in the Looking-Glass House. The walk from the quaint cottage to the imposing structure ahead is lit only by magic provided by Miss Nessie and the Witches accompanying her, as well as the path of stepping stones coming aglow with each step that's taken across them. Beyond the courtyard, with its high, opalescent walls, a city can be seen. There are torches accompanying the flickering light posts outside, and the sounds of life clear even this far from the heart of Aefenglom, something that sounds like... merriment? Festivities are in full swing, even this close to dawn. The rest of the world continues on, even though you've arrived, confused and perhaps missing a few aspects of your usual persons. But while they certainly weren't expecting to spend the festival like this, the Coven has worked as quickly as it can. Their doors, decorated in cowslip flowers, are wide open - welcoming to the public, and to new arrivals as well. The Coven's main building has a surprisingly large front room, compared to its outside; the ceiling stretches ever onward, with stairs of the solidly-flush-against-the-wall variety and floating-ethereally-in-the-middle-of-things variety both. Magic and mundane intermingle as if meant to, with brooms inscribed with runes to clean making quick work of dirt and dust, shadowy figures opening and closing doors as people enter and exit, plates of snacks drifting around as if carried by invisible servers. The brooms are especially attentive to the door as new arrivals step in - they don't apologize for knocking into anyone, and really, anyone particularly scruffy will get swept at until the brooms are satisfied. None of this seems to mind the Witches coming in, with small murmurs of gratitude given to the busybody brooms instead of reprimands. Doors lead this way and that, on higher floors and on the ground floor, but runes glow by their frames in indecipherable patterns. Peculiar-looking devices - watches, the native Witches explain, compliments of Parliament - are passed around to all the new arrivals; they're given a quick rundown on their functions and bid to test them out when they can, and Nessie waits for things to calm before she steps up the floating stairs and addresses the room. "We'll see to it you all have lodgings for a bit, we will, but for now, the festival's still going on - if you couldn't tell!" She laughs a little, hands on her hips. "There's nothing we can do about things right now, so you might as well enjoy yourselves, you might. If any of you want to stay in 'til morning though, well, we can provide - just mind your manners, magic's real particular about them. At least," she winks, head tilting with the motion, "that's how I teach all my classes, it is." Those deciding to stay will be lead to doors that seem to follow no real pattern by native Witches; the rule is "two to a bed," so get cozy with the person next to you. They're the ones you'll be sleeping with tonight. The beds aren't too small - enough to accommodate at least three humans - and they're fairly comfortable too, for their old-looking age.

IV. BOALTINN For those who journey out into the city, they'll be sent off with a word of warning to keep out of trouble from Mhairi, to find everything still quite lively - and still quite unaware of what's taken place. There's very little left to the shadows, with dim light filling in the gaps between the flickering streetlamps and the extra candles and such people have put up themselves. Curiously, small bonfires seem to follow a pattern, culminating into a wide plaza in the center of the Residential District where a larger, brighter one burns, with people dancing around it, their clothing jingling softly with little bells hanging from their hems. The same is mirrored on the direct other side of the city - the only difference is in who's dancing. The Eastern Bonfire has more visibly humanoid beings enjoying themselves, while the Western Bonfire has creatures more monstrous in looks. Regardless, they all seem to be happy- And the reason is this: Boaltinn, a festival lasting the next two dusks. The nights and early mornings are filled with flickering firelight, while the morning and daytime have all but the small fires leading the way to the giant bonfires extinguished; the bonfires, however, stay lit. - and in general, it seems the city is quite happy, quite cheerful, and quite close. a. The Bonfires The main attraction of Boaltinn, as they are with any fire festival, the bonfires on each side of the city are tended to by various Monsters every hour of the day. While much of the scenes are similar - there's plenty of food to be shared, with those partaking in it cowed into sitting with someone else regardless of how familiar they might be, and children of all kinds play together and invite those sitting or watching to come too, in all manner of games, such as jacks, hopscotch, and running ribbons around the tall poles at the bonfires. But there are marked differences, too. The Eastern Bonfire primarily has humans or those that can pass as humanoid in attendance, and they're much friendlier to those who look similar to them; to those that look a little more monster-like, though, their replies are far more curt and their shoulders colder. The area around the bonfire is also littered with trinkets and baubles, all shiny and new and utterly forgotten by their playmates; the ribbon poles are similarly new, made professionally as if by commission. Characters are invited to try and jump through the bonfire's flames to burn away any poor relationship experiences, be it romantic or platonic, past or present; to aid them in this, those at the Eastern Bonfire will give those participating rune-etched accessories to protect them from the fire. Meanwhile, the Western Bonfire has primarily those who are more monstrous in looks, and they're similarly friendlier to those who resemble them, with a similar brusque and cold manner to those who look more human. The area around the bonfire is carefully kept clean, however, and the ribbon poles look handcrafted from lumber and grass, with tightly-woven knots and clumsily-made paper decorations. Those attending here are also invited to jump through the flames, but no such protection is offered; it's simply assumed that, as a Monster, you're likely much better at handling a little fire. b. A Little Entertainment It isn't only the bonfire celebrations that one can participate in, however. All throughout both the East and West Residential Districts, as well as a portion of the Shopping and Entertainment Districts, there's a number of stalls, stands, and stores available for perusal. Take a gander at the rest of the city and find something to do. Of note: Divination readings are available in various stalls, set up by Coven-official Witches as well as homegrown ones, with tarot cards that vary from pristine art pieces that one would almost hesitate to touch to the personally drawn and cut. They offer free readings, enticing all who pass by to join them at their table. Good or bad, the cards seem to bring with them lessons and words of wisdom, interpreted expertly by those handling them... or as expertly as possible; some readings seem a little unsure and muddy. Regardless of belief, those who take part in these readings will suddenly find their day going either exceptionally well or incredibly poor, depending on the overall feel of their reading. Carts and booths are available for one to partake in more food, however there's a stipulation to taking anything from these vendors: one must share this food with others, either in pairs or a group. While relations between humans and beasts seem to be a little frosty, they can be seen intermingling a tad more freely when it comes to this portion of the celebrations, sharing the treats and small meals that are being offered to everyone. The food available all seem to be those easy to hold in hand, not unlike modern-day food trucks; of note, the thin pancake wraps seem to be the most popular, with a bubbly drink similar to a milkshake filled to the brim with drinking straws for best sharing experience coming in second. Flavors are plentiful and varied, though they err closer to the fruits, vegetables, and spices side of the spectrum. Finally, the more pleasure-based businesses offer the chance to relax one's weary feet and take a chance with a little aromatherapy with their rose baths. While traditionally this had its roots in imbuing the bather with good tidings and blessings for the upcoming seasons (or so they'll say when asked), nowadays, it's simply become a luxury treatment for those needing a little TLC. The waters here do have the added bonus of making those who share them friendlier and more talkative with their partner(s) - and yes, all baths are a shared experience. Rather than being split by sex, baths are split by monster and human; co-ed bathing exists for those who don't mind mingling with the opposite species, and if really pressed, they can offer separate baths for different sexes, but their focus seems elsewhere. c. Impulsive Compulsion Throughout the whole festival, new arrivals, particularly those with magic talent gifted to them by the world, will feel like they can do anything and will push themselves to the limit. While not inherently detrimental, those who feel it will become more reckless, their inhibitions lessened and impulses heightened; trying new things is easy as pie, with any thoughts of fear left far in the back of their minds. While magic is highly discouraged on festival days, given their rest day quality, those under the spell of Boaltinn's madness will feel the temptation to try some anyway, regardless of knowing the proper way of performing it - perhaps it's about time to try out what one discovered in that strange dream... Those found doing magic will get a firm scolding, but no actual punishment; it's only looked down on, and they'll be cautioned against using too much. If any property damage occurs due to reckless magic use, however, there are fines; those without any money to their name can be recruited to pay it off by working at the buildings and stalls they may have accidentally damaged, serving people, looks, or whatever else the business might offer.

Welcome to the intro log! While mingling on the log itself is highly encouraged, feel free to make your own logs; take the prompts offered and go wild, go crazy, go stupid, have fun. The network system is free to use once characters have their watches as well; information on that can be found at the bottom of the Setting page, while any extra questions about it can be found in the FAQ index. Quests can be picked up now as well! While technically most of them won't start until after festivities, you can go ahead and put your name on some by replying to the May Quest Pickup thread on the Quest Board. Finally, if your character is getting into any Shenanigans, let the mods know and if you have any questions about the log, ask them here!

Comments

wolfgang amadeus mozart | fgo

[fordeath]

I. arrival

[ unfortunately, amadeus doesn't have the chance to get a good look at the fancy, personal mirror made just for him — given that it hangs high from the wall and at an angle, immediately renouncing him to the forces of gravity. ] AH—

[ heads up to those below — a musician is about to make contact with either you or the ground. it's a good thing he weighs little for his height, but all of those ridiculous, fluttering layers of his might prove to be just as debilitating.

if he crash lands on you, sorry. confused, amadeus will lie there a bit before sitting up. ] ... Oh. [ oh. ] Ahahaha, sorry about that! I couldn't help it, you see — but your noble sacrifice will be remembered, I promise!

II. entertainment district

[ amadeus is careful to listen intently to the patient explanations above the cacophony of new arrivals, but as soon as he figures he's learned enough for the time that his sensitive hearing can allow, he hightails it out of there. he's quickly realized that he's no longer a servant — or, at least, no longer one bound by the orthodox rules of a holy grail war. but as he's learned in his time with chaldea ... anything goes.

so, why not take it easy until the answers come of their own accord? exploring the city is the next best thing he can do, he figures, and if he's going to be staying here for an extended amount of time ... he may as well assess what sort of facilities they have going here. the most important on the list, being, of course, the highest marker of a cultured and civilized society — a theater. he walks up and down the district streets, spots the music halls and judges the size of each one before turning up at a closed, rundown theater. ]

... I suppose I was expecting too much by looking for an opera house, wasn't I? [ yes... priorities. not to mention now he's leaning into the seedy part of town. ]

III. eastern bonfire

[ by the end of the night, amadeus has made his way back and given way to the festive spirit entirely – having made friends with the locals (especially the musicians and the dancers) and convinced one new companion of his to allow him to borrow their mandolin for a song or two. despite the couple of beers running through his system, he directs and plays, along with a few others, a bright little tune.

it's a plenty clumsy, and requires a bit of improv from the other string players given how sudden it all is, but all in all they put together a charming little show. at the end of it, while amadeus is sure to thank his fellow musicians, he gives a big, showy bow. ]

Thank you, thank you! Please, know my name if you don't already — I am Mozart! [ if you think he's settling in too well — you'd be right and you should say it. ]

IV. the coven*

[ after a long, long evening, amadeus finds his way back to the coven, seeking reprieve for the unfamiliar bout of tiredness weighing down his body ...

... only to be met with that fun, foreboding little sign. ] ... Hm.

[ whether his unfortunate partner is already in bed or just arrived, he'll promptly turn to them to speak. ]

A word of warning — don't be alarmed if the Reaper himself comes to snatch me up in the middle of the night, okay?

V. wildcard

[ ooc: hit me with whatever, or feel free to use the second prompt as a sandbox to find amadeus anywhere in.

*also, don't feel pressured to commit to this arrangement; amadeus may just up and leave depending on his company, oops, or we can work something out. ]

ARRIVAL

[atsumoribiito]

[If the musician's many layers weren't already bad enough, add a few more twists of cloth with Nobunaga's cape also in the pile underneath him. Even before he gets up, she futilely flails to try and free herself from the textile prison.

She finally at least manages to find an opening for her head when he finally sits up.]

Sacrifice?

[She repeats the word with a growl, and grabs a fistful of whatever fabric she can and pulls, hard, while rolling in the same direction, in the hopes of knocking him off her, and onto the floor.]

You're gonna be the only sacrifice here if you don't move it!

[fordeath]

[ being the master of all things auditory, that single growled word lets amadeus know he is, in fact, acquainted with the unfortunate soul (no — he's probably the unfortunate one in this case) he's sat upon. before he can acknowledge her, laugh again, or otherwise react, however, he suddenly finds himself headed once more for the ground. ]

Oh—

[ yeah, she's too fast for him — servant or not, a whole foot difference in height or not, he's pretty helpless to her attack, and swiftly tumbles to the floor, a great flurry of purples and blacks and golds upended. ]

—Oww, ouch... [ now he's on his back, a whole toss worth's of dizziness layered on top of his fall from the mirror. ] It seems you were perfectly capable of resolving the issue yourself... no?

[atsumoribiito]

[It takes her another moment to sit up herself, thanks to effectively rolling onto her cape. Now that she can see, her eyes move her assailant, now on the floor beside her--oh. Somehow, this explains a lot.]

I was, wasn't I?

[Now she's sounding proud of herself, despite how simple a task it is to trip up the fellow Servant in question. With a sudden surge of vigor, she hops to her feet, bending just long enough to retrieve her hat and replace it on her head.]

Which is why you should tread more carefully when dealing with the Demon King!

[Is that a dramatic cape flourish in the middle of this dusty mirror house? Yes. Yes it is.]

[fordeath]

( sorry for the abysmally late tag....! continued here. )

iii !

[wolfcorgi]

[ despite all (all being how irritated koga has been about this place, about being away from everything and everyone he knows), at least the festival does... calm his heart. it's ironic, because just moments ago, he remembers talking about the school trip, about sort of... wanting to go, and this could almost be it, if everything wasn't so damn weird.

but koga is ultimately a lover of music, so when he hears string instruments nearby, of course he'll be drawn to it. he can tell it's not perfect, but it's the closest he has of home. so he'll stand there and watch, and observe the one person who stands out the most, both in appearance and in the way he plays. when it's all over and done, koga is one of the people who clap, but one of the few who are bold enough to approach this guy who Totally isn't The Mozart, guitarcase on his shoulder. a shame he couldn't use it. ]

Hahah, that wasn't half-bad, huh! It ain't the kinda music I'm used to, but anything's better than whatever kinda music they play here.

[ victorian music is just so, victorian??? ]

You a musician or somethin'?

[fordeath]

[ oh, applause! how kind of the kid, especially given — not to generalize, now, but can he think anything else of the piercings, the jewelry, the hair, his age? — it really doesn't appear that it could be the kind of music he's used to.

the sort of back-handed compliments don't seem to deter amadeus at all, at least, smile wide. ]

Oh, how could you tell? [ was it, perhaps ... that he was just performing? just now? ah, there's that mischievous little twinkle in his expression. ]

I am, of course! My name is Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. A pleasure. [ he reiterates, just in case. that there are populations out there in the complex web of history that may not recognize his name is hardly a foreign concept to him, which is all the more reason for him to make sure it sticks in the brain.

then: ] Is that electric?

[ for those who do know it, though ... his post-chaldea familiarity with 21st century instruments probably isn't all that convincing. ]

[wolfcorgi]

[ listen...! some people just play as a hobby! it's different. but he won't let this little tease deter him, and mozart's lucky that koga is like an excited puppy when he hears good music nearby, especially after what feels an eternity. ]

Huh, that's a weird name t'give to a person. I mean, ain't that exactly the actual Mozart's name? [ figures this guy's parents maybe are musicians, and major fans of The mozart? he'll shrug it off, he guesses. it's a bit weird, but hey, who's he to judge, really? it's kind of amazing how passionate this family seems to be about music. ] Koga Oogami, part of an idol unit called UNDEAD. We're pretty damn popular in Japan!

[ and koga is most positively beaming about it, because he figures with a name like that, and an appearance like this, this guy isn't japanese at all. but ah-- that he actually brings up his guitar is more than what koga could have asked for! the boy excitedly removes it from its case, a black gibson sg that he's far too proud of. it did belong to his idol, once. ]

'Course. I'm a guitarist, too! Haven't found a place to plug it in yet, else I'd show ya my own skills~ ♪ I'm damn good at it myself. Ya can play the guitar too?

bullying begins now

[fordeath]

[ koga......

well, he really can't blame him — meeting someone of his fame doesn't happen every day, after all.

and while he's not quite as eccentric as some playwrights he knows, far be it from him not to appreciate — indulge, even — in some bout of dramatic irony as he allows koga to continue without correction.

especially when he mentions idols. is that ... pity tinging his smile?

... well, he'll opt to answer the question, first. ] Sure. [ sure ] I haven't had the privilege to try an electric one, yet, but I'm guessing you may be hard-pressed to find an amplifier around here, you know? [ then again, given all that he's seen, with the monsters and the magic in particular, perhaps this place has room for surprises. ]

How good are your improvising skills?

[ he asks, suddenly. foreboding. ] My experience with idols [ group or not ] has left me wanting. Think you can play something of yours on this?

[ yes, he is talking about. the mandolin. still in his hands. amadeus plays a simple scale on the thing both to indicate his meaning and perhaps help this modern day teenager know where the range is. a guitar and mandolin are fundamentally different, and if koga has never seen one in his life, it could be a whole day's worth of lesson on its own ... but, maybe he can play something close enough for this composer to get a feel. ]

be nice to this dog

[wolfcorgi]

[ listen, mozart has been dead for 228 slutty, slutty years, you can't blame him...

koga does visibly deflate a little bit at that remark, because it is right, and with how everything around them seems far too old in time (and european in style, which in part is weird, but koga oogami is nothing but too overly enthusiastic about england, so it's fine), every second that passes just proves itself to be another second that he comes to realize that maybe, playing his guitar in this place will be impossible, huh.

(he's definitely a bit more visibly sadder about it, but the question, at least, distracts himself from that.) ]

Ya probably just never met real idols before. But sure, it ain't our style, but it's worth trying.

[ guitar back in the case, and the mandolin... has a similar feel to it, definitely lighter and smaller in his hands as he gets familiar with the strings and general grip on it. he tries a few chords himself first, and it's not going to sound anything like UNDEAD, but... sure. it takes a minute or so of trial and error before koga goes for one of his unit's songs, and though he treats the mandolin exactly like a guitar, it isn't all that bad. it shows koga definitely has skill, but not the ability to adapt pure rock into something not too well suited for the kind of music he's used to playing.

... and now he's lowkey worried this talented musician who's Totally Not Mozart will think less of him. great! ]

[fordeath]

No, I don't think that I have. [ sorry, liz, but little shrieking dragon girls don't count.

amadeus doesn't get much of anything by putting the kid on the spot like this, except, maybe, a certain kind of pure, candid introduction for one another. as musicians, what better way to say hello than by playing a song? or so he thinks.

as the boy figures things out, amadeus begins to recognize the subtle signs; performance anxiety. ah, but it's okay, koga, he understands — if only in that he's never once been taken down by the metaphorical beast, as inhuman as he is.

nevertheless, he pulls through, and even amadeus has to give him credit then. ] Oh, impressive! Not what I was expecting, certainly, but it's not easy to transcribe on the fly like that!

[ he laughs jubilantly (you passed, koga!) before reaching a hand out for the mandolin again. call him inconsiderate for handing a stranger a borrowed instrument, but at least he's not enough to let them keep it. ]

Do you sing as well?

[wolfcorgi]

[ for all it's worth, all the times koga calls himself a wolf, if he had any sort of canine ears and a tail, they'd have stood up immediately, his metaphorical tail wagging like the world is going to end just in an hour or two. approval! he's a simple boy, really, and there's nothing he wants more than the approval and respect of talented musicians.

they'll recognize his value (UNDEAD's value), and bring him and his unit to fame. it's an infallible plan.

(in his mind, that is). ]

Haha, ya think so?! Hell yeah~ ♪ I've been practicin' guitar for years now, 'course I could do somethin' like this.

[ except yes, he had been scared for a bit that his performance had sucked, but hey! he got approval! his confidence has very visibly increased as he gives the mandolin back. he's practically sparkling. ]

'Course! That's the main job of an idol, after all. Singing, dancin', there ain't many idols who can play instruments, but that just makes our performance better, don't ya think? ♪ Is there anythin' ya want me to sing?

[ a pause, and god it's too easy to see he's hesitating before asking something, or maybe he shouldn't, but when he does anyways, there's a bit of shyness in his demeanor. koga oogami has officially become a tamed dog. ]

We should sing together, if ya don't mind...

[fordeath]

( continued here! )

III.

[amurder]

[Since first gliding through the looking glass and stepping through the threshold of the overflowing cottage, Salieri has had a low persistent ringing in his ears.

Not unlike the pitch of a bell or a way one strikes a triangle it rings it resonates through the area and stays with him like an unwelcome visitor– incessant, doing nothing to quell the restless which plagues him from head to toe. The only comfort he could afford was the fact that there were others just as lost as he was, and if that told him anything it was this: this was a collective effort. They were brought here for a purpose. Summoned, almost... but what for?

And why him? Salieri walks grimly through the festivities with a dark cloud about him. He served his purpose in the last unfolding of events he played a part in... and while he understands that a Servant's existence means little to nothing, nebulous as it is– he also knows they are summoned specifically to correct something.

So for what was he forced to come here for? The composer stalks through the thin crowds, his red gaze scanning faces passively. He hears peals of laughter, the crackle of firewood, glasses clinking together—

— ...] ... !!

[—music.

But not just music.]

Not just music! [Salieri seethes, turning his heel and cutting through the crowd in curt swift steps. Those strings are being plucked by clawed gloves, expertly so— incredibly so! There is no other person in this world, in this universe that could replicate such sounds even with a instrument as humble as a mandolin. No, he knows this rhythm, knows the calculated genius behind every carefree strum and tune.

And the music draws him closer, like a moth to the proverbial flame— until he actually does see flames through the clearing. The hues of white and yellow dance across his vision as he approaches the jovial group, his gaze focusing on a silhouette that is all too familiar, all too painfully familiar. Something hot twists in his chest.] ...

[Yes... it is him.

Why here? Why again?

The ringing has stopped. Now all that fills his ears is the deafening silence of realization and the Maestro's laughter. Salieri's gloved fists clench tight... and a seething whisper finally escapes past his teeth.] ... Amadeus.

[Wolfgang Amadeus. The man who surpassed him with hardly any effort.

... The one who wronged him.]

[fordeath]

[ removed though he may be of the charms and enchantments he typically weaves into the bars of his compositions, the notes sung from every instrument he plays, amadeus still possesses the hearing of a musical genius, and his name, hissed out in that tune could not be missed even across the field and the crackle of the fire.

through the flames it's rather difficult to make sense of the shadow of the kapellmeister standing there — but that voice... is unmistakable. amadeus lets out a curt laugh.

what he can't immediately know is what the avenger (ex-avenger?) may be thinking, who or what summoned him, or how this new world has affected his psyche. how much danger he's currently in seems like a thing he'll have to assess as salieri approaches... or doesn't. he can see, at the very least, that he's not hiding in that armored shell of his.

still, the company of his newfound musical friends (despite their obliviousness) seems like a potential — if very brief — line of security that he'll happily take advantage of for the next few moments. the festivities continue in spite what seems to be this section of frozen time suspended between the two composers, and over the noise of dancing bells and cheering, amadeus then speaks, just loud enough for salieri to hear. ]

You really do follow me like the Reaper, don't you? [ and he's just standing there like he's one with the shadows. ]

[amurder]

[—Hah.

This place certainly knew what it was doing when it stripped Salieri of his armor— his claws and his rage. If not for the lack of his abilities, the Reaper which Amadeus speaks off... who knows what condition the Maestro would be in now.

Salieri feels conflict boil in his stomach. Equal parts relief... equal parts frustration.

The latter shows all too easily in the deeply engraved lines of his brow, his tightly pressed lips and aging eyes. No, he's no Reaper at the moment... but that similarly fuming furnace within him remains even now. To see Amadeus asserting himself into the crowds so easily, without any doubt or slip of hand when he plays that instrument— ]

Tch...!

[Nails dig through fabric into his palm. Salieri stomps forward, begins a short but intimidating march toward the composer— adrenaline fueling his legs and tension tightening every limb. Once he's gotten close enough he stops... and takes one silent deep breath.

He won't have it.

There are matters to discuss, and Salieri makes his intention known by taking a slow step back, turning slightly towards the way he came.] My apologies, Herr Mozart...

... for interrupting. [His flat, vacant tone cuts through the merriment like a blade.] I'd like a minute of your time.

[Everything in Salieri's body language- from his fists to the rigid line of his spine- speaks volumes far too great for the composer to ignore. He won't be going anywhere until Amadeus agrees.

And if he doesn't... well, here's to hoping.]

[fordeath]

[ once the avenger begins stalking toward him, amadeus makes the swift decision to kindly return the nicely polished, currently unbroken mandolin back to its generous owner. if whatever occurs in the next couple seconds renders the thing in pieces somehow, he wouldn't have the means to pay for it (and salieri will have successfully saddled his rival with debt on his very first night in this world — a miserable irony he'd rather not endure). so he does, and with half-distracted gestures of gratitude as he quickly scans for breaks in the crowd... you know, in case he needs to make a quick escape, all too prepared for a full on assault—

until, that is, the crunch of the grass under those sharp shoes comes to a halt.

without fully seeing, he knows. salieri not only stops, but takes a step back, and his next few words tell amadeus (most of) what he needs to know regarding the state of the unbridled violence that was the man in grey. ] ... [ for a moment, he simply stares at the other composer, nothing except quiet caution in his expression as he thinks, considers ... before cracking a casual smile. ] Right, Herr Salieri. [ a shrug. ] I was just wrapped up here, anyway.

[ the torrent of oppressive atmosphere vented from those shadowed eyes and hollow tone both is surely enough to suffocate the raging flames of the bonfire, amadeus thinks ... and yet expertly ignores it as he makes the time to bid his new friends farewell.

once he's done, he meets salieri halfway, fitting his tricorne back on with a bit of a sigh in his tone. ] You know, Salieri, leading me into the dark corner of town to off me is pretty devious even for you.

[amurder]

[For a split second Salieri feared Amadeus would refuse.

But what would his fear warrant if the Maestro declined to join him? Concern for him? Concern for himself— at what he would do to him? No, there is no need for that doubt now. Salieri can feel the absence of the Grey Man without even needing to peer inside himself. Of course, if the Reaper had been present who knows what may have occurred in these last few seconds. With a touch of cold in his chest, Salieri mulls over these thoughts as he leads them to an opening within the thick trees— the sounds of celebrating still thrumming around them but dulled for now.

—and when Amadeus speaks again Salieri he slows to a stop. His molars grind.]

... Devious?

[He turns, no longer showing his brooding back— but instead faces Amadeus, eyes blazing with clarity.] Devious I may be...

But it is nothing compared to what you have inflicted on me, Herr Mozart. [And not just toying with his mind, but also with his will— his emotions.] Tell me.

Do you know what I speak of? Do you remember? [Cloying bitterness wells up in his throat.] Surely after a performance such as that... you could not have forgotten.

[fordeath]

( continued here! )

iii. eastern bonfire

[ua_duibhne]

[The sound of the mandolin cuts through the crackle of the bonfire, somehow enhanced by the liveliness and noise all around them, and, with the crowd the improvised band of musicians have gathered, Diarmuid soon follows. Most surprisingly, the man at the center of it all is almost certainly not a local; he's too bombastic in his appearance, sticking out like a peacock among pigeons. The elaborate bow he takes at the end only adds to his theatrical aura. And as for that name-

Mozart.

The knowledge imparted to him by the Grail- being aware of things beyond his experiences still makes him a little uncomfortable- creeps to the forefront of Diarmuid's mind. Though he couldn't pick out any of his works by ear, the unconscious memory of a famous composer puts a face to the name. In spite of himself, he steps forward, offering a grateful smile.]

You seem to have left quite an impression already. [a beat-] Ah, forgive me for assuming that you're not native to these parts but your name is familiar to me.

[Perhaps he's been too quick to judge. After all, this man has the easy confidence of someone who's been here for years.]

[fordeath]

[ a familiar voice, a familiar face — a familiar little beauty mark set on it, and yet the man doesn't know him at all! ah, the nature of servanthood.

well, no matter. diarmuid's appearance raises more questions (what summoned either of them, then?) than it does answers, but so long as there isn't a force out there looking to target chaldean servants, then the answers can indeed wait. ]

No need. [ for the apology, he means — or the formalities in general, really. ] You're right on key with that one, though I understand the confusion. I tend to have that sort of effect, hahaha. [ don't underestimate his ability to adapt to new places; soon enough he'll have built up his tabs at all the taverns in town. ]

I'm a Servant, just like you. Even if circumstances might tell otherwise.

[ua_duibhne]

[A Servant. Diarmuid can only stare at him at first, bewilderment and then suspicion flickering across his face, but the more he thinks about it, the more inclined he is to take his claim seriously. It wouldn't benefit him any to lie and, as much as he searches for any sign of deception in his face, he seems sincere. Not that his own judgement has ever been that solid. For now, though, he's willing to accept it.

No, the part that troubles him is what it all could mean. Is this a sign of the Grail's involvement or have they moved beyond even its awesome reach?]

... this only complicates matters. [The only immediate sign of agitation comes in the way he tugs on his hair, twisting a lock around his finger and releasing it as he talks.] I met a Master I'm already familiar with earlier but he was by himself- and had no access to his abilities.

[He won't speak for himself. If it's the same for Mozart, he'll understand and if not- well, he's going to keep that close to his chest.]

Multiple Servants and a Master in one land with no War to fight. How bizarre.

iii.

[haillenarte]

[the sound of strings catches francel's attention amidst the festivities — it's not at all familiar, but it's folksy yet refined, and reminds francel of the wild traditions of the highlands from a time before ishgard was covered in ice.

he finds himself drawn to the tune. eventually, he moves closer to watch; the local musicians are decent enough, of course, but the clear star of the show is the man with the long blond hair who is managing to direct and play at the same time. transfixed, francel stays for the duration of the performance, and when they are finished, he is the first to clap enthusiastically.]

Why, that was delightful! Thank you, Mozart. You are quite the showman, aren't you?

[fordeath]

[ francel is not quite tall enough to make holes in an overcast, tundra atmosphere like he has known some servants to do, but his voice is distinctly angled enough to catch amadeus's attention over the rest of the humbly elevated crowd. ]

Hahaha, oh you're too kind! [ it's only when amadeus receives complete, unabashed praise that he seems to know any sort of humility, huh? ] It'd sound much better on a stage, but one can't be too picky when you've just arrived in the city.

[haillenarte]

[francel laughs and waves an airy hand, only too happy to continue dishing out praise for herr mozart's overinflated ego. but he's got the skills to match the ego, so really, why not?]

Then you are an otherworlder like myself? Well, if you keep that up, they'll grant you a stage soon enough — mark my words.

[you have a fanboy now, amadeus... or at least, another one. francel is boyishly enthusiastic as he steps closer; the rest of the crowd, sensing the end of the performance, begins to scatter.]

Surely you were a musician in the land from whence you came?