When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love

[whomthebelltolls]

Who: Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower and OPEN
When: December
Where: All over
What: Catch-all for December! Snow, snowglobes, fighting some oogie boogies, and feasts. Not much mistletoe, though. She's not prone to it.
Warnings: A bit of blood and violence



[1: Does it kill? Does it burn? - Haunted Mansion]

[Well. This isn't so much different than what she's used to. The cold rain giving way to a blizzard of this proportion is certainly A Thing, though. It's been since Cainhurst that she's seen something this bad. Yharnam got a lot of rain, but tended toward that rather than any large amount of snow. Not that she thinks most people would've noticed, even if it did snow a lot there.

Well, it matters not. The Haunted Mansion is normally kind of shadowy and cold, but Maria's garden has been well-enchanted, so the grounds immediately around it are... mostly clear of the snow. In places, the wards fail for a brief period, and she can be often heard sighing as she watches the snow pile up on the plots for her plants. Inside, however, it's not so much magically enchanted as it is just sort of full of well-burning fires - naturally made, in hearths, and plenty of candles around when the power inevitably flickers and dies.

Anyone who wants or needs a stop over - or already lives there - is invited into the kitchen for some mulled cider (and a bit of rum, if they wish to splash some in there from the bottle next to the pot - Maria's cup is pretty much spiked the whole time.), or tea, or just a moment to shake off the cold and snow.

If they dare. After all, the place looks like something out of a horror story at the best of times; tall and imposing, with narrow windows set back into the facade, and spiky towers. The ivy that normally grows up the sides is mostly dormant for the winter, and all the winterized trees make it look especially haunted. But maybe the otherwise relative lack of snow is enticing... or the fact one knows who lives there and wants to brave it anyway.]

[2: Is it painful to learn that it's me who has all the Control? - Around town]

[Or maybe it's the opposite. Maria isn't afraid of a few... feet... of snow, anyway. So she bundles up in her hunter gear, and tromps out into the snow. The streets are mostly abandoned - honestly, just the way she likes it - as she sets out. Perhaps one runs into her in the few stores that remain open, hoping to eke out a bit of business from those brave (or foolish) enough to brave the winter weather.

Or maybe she's making a house call, if she knows the person well enough. She knocks the snow off her hat and boots before ducking through doorways.] It's not slowing down out there... [If only she didn't hate Cainhurst. She'd make a joke about it being just like home! Or maybe not, it is Maria, after all.]

[3: Does it thrill? Does it sting? - Snow Global]

No, no, it's... taller than that. The Astral Clocktower is built into the front of the front wing of the Grand Cathedral, but the tower stretches up far above the face of the clock itself. [She's explaining it to the crafter, who frowns a bit in concentration, and comes up with a new prototype. It's starting to shape up - the Astral Clocktower is an impressive thing, in the end.] And the front of the Cathedral is a large staircase down into the Central Cathedral Ward's plaza.

[Once they're out, though, it seems to become a bit of a commodity. Maria looks a bit bemused as, several days later, she sees yet another couple shaking theirs and setting the flurries about.] ... For as much as magic seems to rely on astronomy... I'm impressed they've never seen a star-reading clock.

[4: When you feel what I bring, and you wish that you had me to hold? - Modrainicht]

[And, again, Aefenglom loves itself a good, huge party, regardless of what else is going on. Mounting tensions among the populace? Doesn't matter, have a party. She has nothing to add to the giant potluck... and probably with good reason, because she's pretty sure nothing but the Vampires here would have taste for food that's been... imbued with Blood, and that's the only thing she can think of that's unique to her world. She doesn't even have the right type of Blood for it, anyway.

But, she'll partake, and enjoy the way the mood seems to have lightened up. She feels a few compulsions of friendly cheer as she mills about the place, but the mistletoe doesn't seem to stick when she's under it - that's on someone else to bring it up, because she's pretty resistant. Instead, she drinks the drinks, eats the food, and... sits down by a face - familiar or not - beneath the warmed tents. She picked up something from a serving dish that didn't look like it belonged, so it must've been brought in potluck style. She picks up a morsel of it, and puts it in her mouth... and immediately grimaces. Eugh. It's fish. The briny taste is immediately offputting. She's had enough of seawater and blood, thank you.

And with that, she slides the plate back out.] ... If anyone has a taste for fish, help yourself.

[5: Like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams - The Woman]

[If she hadn't been pre-warned by the Wilders about this she might have - okay, no. She never would have fallen for this. Not only is this one of the oldest folklore tales in the books, the baby is a dead giveaway. No one just carries a baby around in the woods like that.

Though the haunting, ethereal cries of the infant make her skin crawl, for reasons entirely related to her time at home. How unpleasant.

Maria's swords spark into fire, into life, burning down the edges, illuminating the area. It's trying to lure her out. Again, nothing new. She can only think it's that the people here live such comfortable lives that this thing has claimed so many lives. It wants to be hunted like a Beast, well, Maria hears the hunt calling... and she will answer it. The itch for violence has been working its way into her arms for some time, her fingers aching to take someone apart - this will be the perfect outlet for it.

And then, she holds her sword out, stopping whoever is coming up from behind her.] Shh. She's waiting in ambush. She thinks she's clever.

[6: Is there anyone out there? Cause it's getting harder, and harder to breathe.]

[Wildcard! If anyone needs her for anything, might wanna bounce ideas off of her for the infiltration thing she isn't going to be actively participating in, but is more than down for being tangentially related to. Or anyone being harangued by the Hunting of the Wren? She's more than happy to scare off the crowds if she knows you. Hit me up on plurk at Reslari on Discord at Reslari#9561 or at Maria's monthly plotting post here!]

Comments

5.

[lonewanderer]

I shot her in the face.

[ Lex murmurs once she's close enough for Maria for the other woman to hear. She can't help but sound amused, even though Maria's right and she should have realized it. The Woman had wailed and fled, and Lex had pursued - but the Shade is old and smart enough to ambush a sniper chasing after prey, now that she's been drawn down from her perch.

Good thing she's already switched from her sniper rifle to her shotgun. Good thing, too, that Lex has talons instead of fingernails and dragon-scale armor. ]

[whomthebelltolls]

Well, she is already dead. I see it's not enough to stop every Shade, and I am not surprised. [The swords woosh and crackle as she lowers the longer blade from where she'd been using it like a crossing guard, and she focuses out into the woods. She only tilts her head enough to point one ear at Lex, without looking back. This is, also, in its own way, a sign of trust for the other woman.]

I think I would prefer to trigger her trap and get this done quickly; separate enough to make it difficult to corral us easily, but stay within quick aide?

[lonewanderer]

Dead or just fucked up? [ The question is rhetorical; Lex isn't sure if one is better than the other, really. All she knows is that she doesn't want to end up like the Woman.

Maria's plan seems solid, though. Is it really a trap, after all, if you know about it? ]

Works for me. I think if I attack from too far away again, she'll go deeper away to try and draw me out, so... [ she pats the shotgun ] Up close and personal it is.

[whomthebelltolls]

It matters not. [Rhetorical or not, she'll answer it, because she will. With that, Maria tilts her head, looking around. Lex with the shotgun will still have a little range that she won't with her swords in case something happens, but the trees will help make the spread less useful - if it works like she thinks it does.

She steps forward to cue them both into motion.] The trees would make distance difficult, anyway. I'm probably the more obvious target, I'll take the lead - watch the rear?

[lonewanderer]

You got it.

[ Her eagles wings are tucked tight around her as a nod toward the trees and their grasping branches, with the parts that can be armored covered. Fox ears twitch, listening for the sound of the Woman - wondering if she will weep again, or she'll be silent this time.

At least Lex also has talons, if the shotgun doesn't work. And teeth, but she really doesn't want to do that. ]

[whomthebelltolls]

[Well, here she is. Bait. Not the first time it's happened, and honestly... no one ever expected the Hunters to come back from the Hunt back at home. Heading as the beacon into dark woods against an unpredictable, powerful, and dangerous foe is just... sort of usual. Or it had been, many years ago. It's nostalgic, at this point.

Swords held to her sides, Maria stalks into the treeline. She knows their foe lies in wait, and she just has to... rely on the steady footsteps behind her to watch their backs, toward the tree line and out into the open where they'd, honestly, probably be safer.

The trees are rather thick, but they're not so dramatically so that it's impossible to see for even a little distance. Which means that, wherever this Shade went, it's hiding somewhere more clever.] ... Do you hear anything?

[It's silent in the forest, but for Maria's soft voice, which barely carries across the distance between them. She knew they were walking into a trap, but this seems a bit odd.]

shades and stuff??

[quickwhip]

[ The Morning Star is strangely getting difficult to hold for long, but Trevor makes do with a pair of gloves worn to protect... his skin. Apparently. But the whip used by the Belmont Clan over the generations is what he needs and feels familiar twirling around in a graceful dance of silver links clanging against each other right before smacking across the face of oncoming Shades. This is familiar to him. This he can easily fall back into without even having to think much about it and while the gentle perk of strength and speed having increased some is nice and all, he still mostly goes at it as he would back within his world.

As a Belmont.

Dropping down to the ground, he lands in the snow just as a Shade lunges for him and he ducks out of the way. A quick twist on his heel, he wallops the end of the Morning Star against the back of the Shade and flips himself back as he throws the creature off to the side. He's not the only one out here taking care of these, but he's mostly working alone when not throwing a glance off to whoever else.

There's a grin on his lips to himself, twirling the whip around as he pulls it back close against his hand. ]

Now this feels a lot more like the norm.

heck ye

[whomthebelltolls]

[Maria's weapon set is flashy in a different sort of way - and it doesn't harm her to hold it, of course, but the Rakuyo is a gleaming saber/katana hybrid with a parrying dagger that snaps into and out of the end of the hilt for a seamless two-handed to one-handed to dual-wielding style that slips between motions with a practiced ease.

A deadly ease, as well. She doesn't quite have the range of the whip, but she augments with magic whenever it's not going to blow up in her face. Her magic feels... good now, too. More powerful than before, no buildup and pain and weird hallucinations in the corners of her vision, because she has a Monster on the other end neatly recycling the mana. The fire explodes in more powerful bursts. It's easier to chain her teleports and attacks together into longer strings.

It makes her want to push harder, and further, to really open up against the Shades, so she does. It feels good to take things apart like this, to spill the glowing magical ichor-blood and dismember the drained husks. The clank and rattle of whip segments, the scratchy howls of the blight-infected beings, and the heavy thud of bodies hitting the ground alerts her that one of the others out here has gotten closer.]

Oh, you'll get plenty of practice at this, if it's your interest. [Her voice is surprisingly bright and clear, and only a little winded from the exertion. She's not tiring out nearly as quickly anymore, either. Okay. Maybe the Bond thing was a better idea than she thought, and she only occasionally gets an alarmed, concerned !? from the other end. Right now, it is also blissfully quiet.] There are always infected things to kill in the Wildes.

[quickwhip]

[ With another twirl of the Morning Star held within his hand and wrapped around his wrist, Trevor smiles a bit to himself as he stands there in the snow. The cold doesn't caress against his skin in a chilly sort of manner as much as it had a couple months ago. He can see and hear more clearly and sharply then he previously could. It's an advantage he could get used to having, despite all the other negativities to come along with it.

Glancing over to the one speaking to him, he shoots a bit of a smile off at the thought. He'd heard this and that about still being able to take up the monster hunting profession here and there. But with everything that he had been going through as of late, it's not like he had much time to really dig into that more thoroughly. This will also do, though. ]

And here I was beginning to think I wouldn't get to do this anymore.

[whomthebelltolls]

Oh, for as long as this infection continues to spread, there will be infected creatures to put down. [They frown on killing the Monsters when they go feral, apparently, but mindless undead(? possibly? She'll get back on that one) aberrations are something a little different.

Either way, it feels good to take something apart again. Even if the bloodlust doesn't take her anymore. She's been a Hunter for too long to totally shrug off the joy of it, even after retirement.]

The Wilders are always looking for people to help out. Though they have not lead any expeditions in some time - not since we took back that cave.

[They've mostly cut through the masses of Shades for now - whatever is left shuffling in the dark is far enough away to not be a threat at the moment. It'd be just fine for them to push in after them, but for now, she'll take the conversation.]

four.

[trouvaille]

I'll trade you, ( gwen offers, immediately drawn by the prospect of delicious fish and offering a bowl to maria in turn; half-spheres of something covered in chocolate with thin biscotti alongside. ) I made it, it'll definitely take the taste away.

If you like desserts, anyway.

( striking to look at, it's fairly easy to see at a glance why she swivels towards fish; a blue-cast to her pale, wet-look and luminous skin that catches colours in the light. needle-fine and sharp teeth, and translucent webbing between her fingers. eyes huge and dark with pale slit pupils. no one has ever more visibly looked like they must be really into sushi. )

[whomthebelltolls]

[The voice grabs her attention, of course - she did offer, and now someone has come forward to return the favor, but Maria is not quite prepared for what she looks up and sees. Monsters are nothing new to her; mostly transformed ones, similarly, are a perfectly common sight. Yet this one immediately tenses her shoulders, her head reeling back a couple of inches as though in surprise. The aftertaste of fish suddenly becomes worse, sharp and acute and sickening and she has to take a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly from her mouth lest the immediate reaction turn her stomach.

Once the moment is over, she slides her gaze smoothly down to where the desserts are proffered, glad to have something else to take her attention, and to get the aftertaste out of her mouth, and she reaches forward.] A... recipe from your home, then?

[She focuses on the sweets, intently, as she reaches for them.] I would happily try these, instead.

[trouvaille]

( most of this transformation predates aefenglom; where the faerie in her had slowly overtaken her human heritage, now it blends with merrow for something equally unique. at home, though, no one ever saw her like this—she had concealed the alterations that bled into her with the magic she'd embraced beneath a glamour that these new transformations have taken from her, a smooth gloss of what she had once looked like keeping her secret and safe. it had been traumatic in a way she hadn't, prior to this precise moment, realised quite how much she'd come to terms with to lose that safety net.

it's only when she mirrors the recoil that she realises she hadn't been expecting it, this time. there's more of a hesitation before she says, more warily, the way her pupils dilate full of stars giving away tension she's otherwise determined to steady, )

—yeah. Yeah, it's, um. It's—

( this is fine, they're both being fine and normal and she can compose herself. she nods, like she's decided something firmly, looking down at the bowl and handing it to maria like she only had to steel herself a little bit to meet her halfway. they're meeting each other halfway. )

It's an Italian dessert, it's called tartufo—there's tart fruits in the middle, and layers of ice cream. I know that's kind of...I mean, the weather, but I like it all the time. And I can make it in my sleep just about. It's nice with the biscotti.

[whomthebelltolls]

[Were only it so simple as an aversion to Monsters, but it is not. Just when she thought it was improving, something like this happens. Maybe it's just Alex which smooths out the ripples, as it were, in Maria's aversion to fish. Unfamiliarity breeds stronger reactions, after all.

It helps not to look at the scales, and the webbing, and the teeth. She takes a bit of the dessert, and is relieved at the overbearing sweetness as it washes out the leftover briny taste of fish. When she swallows the bite, it chases down the bile that had risen in the back of her throat. After a moment, the whole thing is just an unpleasant memory, and a twinge of discomfort in her stomach that she can easily ignore.

It's more awkward to avoid eye contact and pointedly not look at the person across from her, so Maria lifts her head, and shoves the discomfort back down. It remains, wound around her spine and jabbing at her stomach, but her face doesn't show it, at least.] The winter is a perfectly fine time to eat ice cream. And it's delicious. Thank you for sharing it.

[And Maria will pass on the fish.]

[trouvaille]

( at least, on a closer inspection less immediately shocked, there aren't any scales. she's as smooth and pale as pearl, opalescent and catching the light, a gleaming thing made more mundane by her hair in braids and the shawl she's fidgeting with. hands and huge eyes betray nervous restlessness that's more obvious than maria's own tucked away unease—gwen is as easily read as a road-sign, despite her best efforts.

she's also awkward at the best of times, albeit not shy, and she lowers those enormous eyes beneath her lashes and picks her fish apart in her fingers before she eats it, avoiding scrutiny that feels weighted with what she's intellectually aware is probably two completely different experiences happening side by side, unrelated. but knowing is only half the battle, and anyway, what if it's not. )

I've started cooking more often since I got here, ( and she's very proud of herself for how conversational it sounds, between bites. ) Normally I don't, I honestly don't think I even know where everything is in the kitchen at my godfather's place, his housekeeper slaps my hands away from everything, but we—

( there's a dog roughly the size of a small bear beneath the table, at her feet. )

—we moved in with a couple of people, I mean, one of them is gone so it's one person now, but I thought I'd make myself useful, you know? Daddy has this friend who's a professional chef. I know my way around a kitchen.

one! + maybe a kaede in our near future? maybe!!!

[usurpers]

[ this isn’t something eren could ever get used to, regrettably. cold and wetness for a dragon of his element was like taking in constantly dripping anesthesia. he was slow and droopy, somber in aura and weary by appearance. he looked older— though the haggard appearance to that hadn’t been caused by the weather, but instead, time itself. the mirrors work in strange ways.

he’s wandered into the questionable house in search of a scent and taste he’s generous to, a chimera that only touched the beginning of his chest in height (eren himself was at around seven feet, now, reptile leggy simply does this). if he stayed outside any longer, surely he’d brumate. oh so tempting . . .

either way, any candles who’s ember flickers weakly gets a boost from him, a small spit of flames to give the combustibles more to chew on and light the way. not the worst hallway he’s walked through— and here be the kitchen, where the dragon-man pokes his head through the doorframe, tongue first. he’s close, but not close enough. maria’s the first he’s run into.

he remembers her, though never having introduced his face to her, extra changes and an age jump in tow, he’s not sure how much she remembers him. his scale patterns match the scheme of lex’s armor. there had been a quick discussion on the network once, he recalls some years ago (years, for him), and that was it. he doesn’t entirely care about it anymore. times change. ]

Hey, [ he says, untroubled, but clearly influenced by the chill of winter to look far more worn. he tastes rum in the air, another flick that his forked tongue offers him. ah, that’s more tempting than brumation, no doubt. he lifts a talon, possibly to be a “hello”, gesture, but a harmless one. he doesn’t want to argue any, and doesn’t plan to stay for long. just waiting on kaede. ] been a while.

[ hewwo to you!!! ]

Maybe!!!!!

[whomthebelltolls]

[The Haunted Mansion isn't always the most inviting place, even taking into account how it looks. The people there run toward the, generously termed, 'very paranoid' about just about everything. But... the weather means they've made some concessions. They all know the house is warm, without relying too heavily on magitech.

So hearing something shuffling in at a slow pace - a snout, some scales, the sure signs of a dragon puts her briefly on edge because all unfamiliar Monsters do, and especially in what should be the relative safety of her own home. However, the moment mostly passes. She has a sharp object somewhere close by, but the worn, weary, sluggish movements aren't exactly screaming "threat" to her. Not yet. Perhaps if he needed to, he could put on a burst of speed, but it isn't showing yet, so instead, once her initial threat assessment is concluded, she relaxes.

They know they're all expecting guests. They might not be guests the others recognize. The voice, however, does bring a brief flash of recognition to Maria that pairs with a bit of irritation. She got into a lot of arguments with people that night; but it was that and something afterward, perhaps during Dorchacht? It's not a favorable reaction, but he's not making any overtly threatening gestures, so she keeps her own calm and tries to remember precisely where the negative association comes from.] Good afternoon.

[A very carefully neutral greeting; this isn't the time to cause a ruckus anyway, if there's not an immediate threat. She watches him scent the air as lizards do, and tries not to think it too strange, though he has still so many human looking features. Her other roommates have developed their own animalistic quirks. This isn't really any different.] Are you here for one of the others?

[usurpers]

[ a nod in return. afternoon already? he can’t tell the time anymore, what with how much he sleeps in this lack of heat. he’s rather glad they could play it civilized as adults do. plus, hey— he won’t lie. he has a certain amount of interest in approaching her to begin with. ]

Kaede, [ another flick past his teeth, this time close to the table and walls, probably where she walked once, or plenty of times. it’s his last shot, anyway. old trail and all. ] but I think I’ve just missed her.

[ one can’t quite scent a shadow, after all. she was all around the house, in aroma, but all of them were varying degrees of time ready passed. fresh trails were no where to be found. a social dragon always seeks company, of course, so truly: he’d rather settle here for a moment than walk the empty walls. he doesn’t take a seat, yet, because this was her home. he had enough boldness to open the door himself, the rest needed a little more harmless permission. ]

I wouldn’t mind waiting here with you, if you don’t.

[whomthebelltolls]

No... there is a reason I kept the route to the kitchen clear. [And that she's got that cider mulling where it's at. It's no longer in the fire, and hasn't been for a while, but there's still a heat spell keeping it nice and warm.] If you would like some of the cider, you may help yourself. [She motions to the pot, to the cups nearby, then to the bottle nearby that is labeled with a local rum distillery.] The rum is free, as well. There should still be plenty. [You know, in case he was wondering. She makes a point of taking a sip afterward, as well. There's just a slight tinge of taste to it, as she likes it. He can add as little or as much as he wants.

With that, she closes her hands around the sides of her cup, as though warming them on the outside. But the truth is, she's not even very cold - she doesn't really get cold anymore, she's noticing. Her blood burns, quite literally, too hot.

And, she watches him. Not... too intensely, she's already determined there's not much threat here, but as one does with another in the room with them and a lack of anything else to do.]

[usurpers]

[ eren looks between the gestures and the cups, the offered drinks— with a heavy nod, he’ll drag a cup aside for himself. 1/4 of cider, only! the rest is filled with rum. more like rum spiked with cider, but it’s all good. he’d prefer alcohol numbing his lips than warm cider in this weather. either way, for his tongue, it’s wholly appreciated. ]

Thanks.

[ taking a seat would be his next journey, slow moving of course, but he gets to dragging a chair out and sitting in it comfortably. more at its edge, to make way for his tail, and soon enough maria would earn the same glance she gives. it takes two to tango, and with genuine curiosity: ]

How has hunting been?

1 - i am gomen about being so hecking late

[fulgency]

[In all the time that Ozymandias has known Giorno, he hasn't been over to his house all that often, but certainly not with the frequency in which he has been since Giorno fell ill. It seems with each passing day, Giorno's condition either holds somewhat steady or worsens considerably, but it never seems to improve. Thus, Ozymandias' visits started as once a day and have morphed into multiple times per day. It seems at this rate, will likely not be long before those multiple visits simply evolve into a prolonged single visit.]

[The weather appears eager to push this development along as the blizzard outside picks up steam, howling and raging. Ozymandias lives within walking distance, but the trek back would only be prolonged and miserable compared to waiting it out here. Because as it turns out, as dreary as it looks on the outside, he finds it to be actually quite the opposite once inside.]

[Ozymandias sets the rum bottle back down and then he neither sits nor takes a drink of his cider. There may be a degree to which he's feeling tired -- hence why he was looking to return home for a while -- but he is still a little tense. It's impossible not to be. He watches the snow outside and folds his arms, lightly swirling his drink in his hand.]

I grow tired of this weather already.

[The rain from the previous months had been bad enough... But more importantly, he doesn't feel like talking about Giorno right this second and there just isn't much to talk about with this woman. Not when he knows her so little.]

Such are the holidays

[whomthebelltolls]

[It's not particularly a big deal, to Maria. She's from a cold place. But, that's why the cider, and the rum, and all the candles and hearths blazing brightly without relying on the Magitech heat.

She's watched this one appear more and more often the more that Giorno's condition deteriorates. It's been fascinating, is what she'd say out loud, and mean it, as well as a bit worrying - which she will not say out loud, though she does still mean it - to watch someone just sort of slowly... die. It's not the first time she's seen it happen, it probably will not be the last time, but the fascinating part about all of it is that this is supposed to happen, according to all the information. Giorno is a vampire. Vampires must die eventually, so they can reach their full transformation, and their full potential.

This visitor must understand that as well, but... mostly the reason she hasn't said anything is because she understands the undercurrent of worry, as well. And the idea that maybe, just maybe, Giorno won't come back. That he'll just die and be inanimate and the vampire thing will have not actually taken full root.]

Luckily, I don't think it can last forever. But it will be annoying until it can be outwaited. [She is drinking, because that's about all there is to do when housebound like this. Drink, eat, read books, walk up and down the stairs a dozen times to keep in shape and to keep moving. Though Maria is less shy about suiting up and just... going out in this weather. The cold doesn't bother her, anyway. Advantage of being a fire witch.] I hope not all their storms are like this.

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias himself is not entirely unaccustomed to colder weather. Despite somewhat popular belief, deserts are actually just as harsh at night as they are during the day, but in the opposite direction. It is all the heavy snow and wetness that he continually takes issue with.]

[...And yes, there is a degree to which he also feels restless, too. Being cooped up inside doesn't suit him when it's not by choice and it's only made worse by Giorno's...condition.]

As do I. Between the rains and these snowstorms, I'm beginning to wonder how exactly it is the city does not become flooded. [He sighs, turning away from the window. Staring at the weather won't exactly make it pass faster.] Thank you for allowing me to wait it out here.

[whomthebelltolls]

I suppose they must have accounted for it somewhere in the magic enchantments... [Doesn't make the weather any better, perse, but it is just a thought. She looks back over at him as he turns back into the house. Watching it is probably kind of depressing.]

There is plenty of room in this place, it is no bother. [Really, if she wants to not interact with anyone, she can, easily. Her room is in the back of the house and full of almost everything she needs to ignore everyone else.] You would be here frequently enough to check on Giorno anyway, no? It's a natural conclusion.

[She sips her drink, then sets it back down. She's curious, and a little tipsy, so she knows it's a bit forward to ask, but she does anyway:] Is it the idea of him dying in the first place, or that he may not return that has you so restless?

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias' gaze lifts suddenly from the liquid in his cup to her almost immediately that the question. It is a very direct question, which Ozymandias is not expecting less because of the content and more because it tends to take a rare sort of personality to feel comfortable enough asking such a direct question of Pharaoh. He doesn't bristle at the question or that it's being asked, however, when he cannot so quickly interpret the motivation behind the question. But Ozymandias also doesn't offer her an immediate answer.]

[Ozymandias shakes his head a little.]

If he does not return to this body or world, I would feel sorrow and grieve for the loss, but I do not fear that outcome. [Death is merely a transition to Ozymandias, after all. It would be no different than if Giorno were to embark on a journey from which he never returned and Ozymandias could not follow at least for the time being. He would miss the boy, miss the time they've spent together, but he would not think of Giorno being lost or no more. He would only be somewhere else. The only real...challenge around the potential of Giorno not returning is something that he would not say to most. Even after thousands of years, it's still something that fills him with such...uneasy feelings. It's something better kept private.] I will admit, however, that I do not relish in watching him linger.

[His suffering could be worse. It seems the more Giorno weakens, the less often he's awake or even really coherent, and so in whatever ways his body is slowly shutting down, Giorno is probably not even aware of most of the time. But that does not make it any less unpleasant to witness for Ozymandias.]