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Entry tags:
[open] december catch-all | u better watch out
1 | COLD WEATHER, WARM COMPANY
[When it comes to his artistry, Andersen enjoys drawing attention. He's a natural at being obnoxious and persistent, both traits that've helped him get his foot in the door when he'd still been alive. But for the smaller, mundane things - like say, helping a soup kitchen - Andersen prefers to keep quiet. Art is meant to be shown off. The little joys of life are best enjoyed as they come.
He helps distribute soup and in cleaning up. He's dressed in plainclothes versus his usual flashy attire, complete with a hat to better disguise his features. But as he moves onto the next table, he finds himself in a bit of a pickle. His cart's broken down. How's he supposed to haul all these dirty dishes away? Andersen puts his hands on his hips and sighs.]
... God still thumbs his nose at me, I see.
[Oh, Andersen. Dramatic as always.]
2 | OUT OF THE CITY
[Andersen can offer two things: medical aid and entertainment.
(a) His medical knowledge is limited to magical means and the most he can do is to heal surface wounds and to ease pain. Anything more serious will have to go to better-versed healers. He's a fussy practitioner, one who grumbles as he handles his patients with attentive care:]
How long have you been hobbling on this? With the way it looks, I'm surprised it hasn't been worn into a stump! Do you think you can power through illness? Moron.
[For all his bark, Andersen is ultimately kind. He demonstrates this when a child in line begins to tear up at the thought of getting a shot. It isn't his problem - hell, he isn't even going to see the kid, that's for whoever's giving out the shot - but he speaks to her in a warm and gentle way.]
That's it now, wipe those tears away. When it's done, come show me your bandage and I'll reward your bravery.
[(b) His entertainment is storytelling, of course. He spins tales about giants and trolls; about peasant children who discover their inner potential; the tragedies of common household objects. Andersen is in his element, especially with the old spinters, who enjoy trading stories with him. It's quite a sight to see what looks like a chubby-cheeked 10-year-old being fawned by a gaggle of grandmothers. When he's done, he retires with his own little bottle of scotch.
But every now and then, he'll sing. He does it when he thinks no one is listening, his voice clear and sweet:]
Jeg hørte orgelets brusen
og vidste min ven var nær.
Først nu forstod jeg rigtig,
hvad kærlighed er værd.
Men knapt et år derefter
drog vennen bort fra mig.
Jeg så ham aldrig siden,
thi søbølgen blev hans grav.
3 | GOOD TIDINGS WE BRING
[When the night is at its darkest, Andersen goes out for a walk. His breath trails from his mouth like mist, and he seems rather pensive. He soon arrives at the grand Bright Wall, its presence a shimmering white stroke. Its light illuminates some of the crouching forest beyond, throwing the greenery into sharp relief like a Baroque painting.
Andersen takes out a pack of cigarettes, courtesy of Dantes, and lights one up. It's only when he's breathed out the smoke that he notices he has company.]
Hey, have you heard of Årsgång? [With the cigarette tucked between two fingers, he gestures at the dark foliage.] They say that if you take a walk in the woods at night, you can risk your life to see the future. A fair gamble, don't you think?
[When it comes to his artistry, Andersen enjoys drawing attention. He's a natural at being obnoxious and persistent, both traits that've helped him get his foot in the door when he'd still been alive. But for the smaller, mundane things - like say, helping a soup kitchen - Andersen prefers to keep quiet. Art is meant to be shown off. The little joys of life are best enjoyed as they come.
He helps distribute soup and in cleaning up. He's dressed in plainclothes versus his usual flashy attire, complete with a hat to better disguise his features. But as he moves onto the next table, he finds himself in a bit of a pickle. His cart's broken down. How's he supposed to haul all these dirty dishes away? Andersen puts his hands on his hips and sighs.]
... God still thumbs his nose at me, I see.
[Oh, Andersen. Dramatic as always.]
2 | OUT OF THE CITY
[Andersen can offer two things: medical aid and entertainment.
(a) His medical knowledge is limited to magical means and the most he can do is to heal surface wounds and to ease pain. Anything more serious will have to go to better-versed healers. He's a fussy practitioner, one who grumbles as he handles his patients with attentive care:]
How long have you been hobbling on this? With the way it looks, I'm surprised it hasn't been worn into a stump! Do you think you can power through illness? Moron.
[For all his bark, Andersen is ultimately kind. He demonstrates this when a child in line begins to tear up at the thought of getting a shot. It isn't his problem - hell, he isn't even going to see the kid, that's for whoever's giving out the shot - but he speaks to her in a warm and gentle way.]
That's it now, wipe those tears away. When it's done, come show me your bandage and I'll reward your bravery.
[(b) His entertainment is storytelling, of course. He spins tales about giants and trolls; about peasant children who discover their inner potential; the tragedies of common household objects. Andersen is in his element, especially with the old spinters, who enjoy trading stories with him. It's quite a sight to see what looks like a chubby-cheeked 10-year-old being fawned by a gaggle of grandmothers. When he's done, he retires with his own little bottle of scotch.
But every now and then, he'll sing. He does it when he thinks no one is listening, his voice clear and sweet:]
Jeg hørte orgelets brusen
og vidste min ven var nær.
Først nu forstod jeg rigtig,
hvad kærlighed er værd.
Men knapt et år derefter
drog vennen bort fra mig.
Jeg så ham aldrig siden,
thi søbølgen blev hans grav.
3 | GOOD TIDINGS WE BRING
[When the night is at its darkest, Andersen goes out for a walk. His breath trails from his mouth like mist, and he seems rather pensive. He soon arrives at the grand Bright Wall, its presence a shimmering white stroke. Its light illuminates some of the crouching forest beyond, throwing the greenery into sharp relief like a Baroque painting.
Andersen takes out a pack of cigarettes, courtesy of Dantes, and lights one up. It's only when he's breathed out the smoke that he notices he has company.]
Hey, have you heard of Årsgång? [With the cigarette tucked between two fingers, he gestures at the dark foliage.] They say that if you take a walk in the woods at night, you can risk your life to see the future. A fair gamble, don't you think?
no subject
If I step out of line I'm sure he'll boot me out. In any case, it's his nature to spoil his allies. He has a desire to be helpful - like me. If it results in my being coddled, I can't really complain.
Do you have a Bonded, Judar?
no subject
[ Well, he hasn't seen much in the way of helpful sides until today, which has turned into a strange sight instead of just another side of Andersen. ]
What's got you wondering about whether I'm bonded or not, shrimp? To send condolences to whatever fool I've wrangled?
no subject
[He admits it so cheerfully, too. And --]
Not to mention there's terrible side effects for Monsters and Witches who neglect Bonds. I'd hate to see you undergo them.
no subject
[ Between this, being seemingly concerned about the state of his legs and providing options for handling it- Calling him your teacher. ]
Pretty sure you've already seen some of those side effects in action. It's not like I can't handle any of it, though. Pain and occasionally failing limbs aren't going to force me into jumping into some bond I'm not really into.
no subject
no subject
[ Damn straight he'll needle and use your own words against you. It's funny, and he could use that right now. ]
no subject
Yes, yes, are you going to list all my charitable moments? We'll be here for only half a minute if that's the case. You're better off shutting up and helping me -- [here, he kicks the broken cart] --put away these filthy dishes.
no subject
[ Charitable is not one of the things that Judar could see the witch being. ]
Besides, I might take pity on someone with a shitty understanding of magic, but I don't carry filth. There's gonna be a time when you need it in a pinch, so you should be using this time to at least try and improve.
[ One could almost hear the 'if I had magic' in Judar's tone. ]
no subject
[He gestures at the dishes with a distasteful wrinkle of his nose.]
Did you see what I did to my own book? You want me to bring this mess to life, so a sea of shattered porcelain can be unleashed on this poor, unsuspecting soup kitchen?
no subject
[ Look, you weird tiny failure, there's practical reasons to still try and work on the magic that's here. There's the availability and potential of a skill, just being wasted like that.
So, Judar goes through and pulls a black and red-jeweled wand from his hair, which increases the length now, but it was a focus item to use. Which is why he's holding it by the jeweled end for Andersen to take. ]
You're not applying any new or unusual properties. Repair spells are a lot easier when everything is right here. Just focus on restoring, and it should last long enough for even someone like you to get what's here to the back and into the sinks.
no subject
Does this really work?
no subject
It's a focus, made with materials that are still good in this world for magical purposes. This will help with precision, especially if you point at what you're working on, and should make the spell more effective. Even you could do the basics.