Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whomthebelltolls) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2019-12-04 04:31 pm
whomthebelltolls) wrote in middaeg2019-12-04 04:31 pm
When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love
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![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
Reslari on Discord at Reslari#9561 or at Maria's monthly plotting post here!]
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
no subject
[ past is gone, at the very least. elbows against the table, he allows his weight forward. ]
Do you know something about the four protectors?
no subject
It seems a bit different now, though. Maybe it's the weather making him more calm, but... he also seems older, somehow, though it wasn't that many months ago she made her broadcast.
She's halfway to reaching out, long slenderman limbs stretching across toward where the cider and alcohol are, to pour another glass.]
Four protectors... here? I can't say I've worked my way that deeply into the library yet, though the words seem familiar. I can't say I know much outside of that, though. [She sets her cup down, and only looks back away from him long enough to ladle a few spoonfuls of the cider into it.]
DID I SAY FOUR i meant three 😭
his voice is . . . much deeper, compared to that broadcast they left each other in. there are far too many things to consider when such short time has passed. or, the opposite. a content exhale comes when he swallows the next swill. ]
It’s rare for me to frequent the library. I do talk to the elders a lot . . . And some others. [ his shoulders lax against the back of the chair, and he cards some talons through his hair to tie up into an unkept bun. ] It’s said that Geardagas has three natural forces to keep nature’s balance. They’re dragons, each stationed in their element.
[ he tips his head up, and his tone changes— to signify they aren’t his words, but from someone else’s wisdom. ]
“The Forest sought duty, the Air sought solitude, and the Sea sought company”.
Three, like margaritas, instead of four, like seasons. Got it.
[She listens, and she thinks it sounds about right. Even mythologically speaking, dragons are known for being powerful creatures, it would make sense that some would be some kind of guardian force in a totally different world, as well.
The forest sought duty... okay. Air, solitude - also okay, she could see it. And the sea company.
That's what pauses her. Something about that is familiar. A dragon... in the sea. Something that is powerful most be very large... Ah. She won't forget the feeling of that hard splat anytime soon.]
Oh. The leviathan from the dream. I think I have seen one of them, perhaps. Or a hollow, approximated shell of what it used to be.
no subject
I’ve found the forest dragon. In a dream at first, the same way. [ he’s now even spoken to her through dream, and any true searching to dig her out— he hopes to get to it once the winter thaws. he’ll need plenty of hands to help clean what was left of her. ] Did it speak?
no subject
[Yes. She checked.] It was quite massive, though. Perhaps if it is that size in the waking world, it is still capable of being found?
no subject
It’s a possibility. [ a large one, at that. with some clicks of his talons against the glass he holds, ] All you might need is some reaching out.
no subject
[She makes a sort of motion.] Perhaps it is out there, and far less infected.
[She swirls her drink, and then...] So that leaves... one, yes? One whom I might be able to find, at least. [As much as she can appreciate solitude.]