[There's a lot of fruit in the bunker, recently. Viktor enjoys fruit, Palamedes has absorbed this, they both keep bringing home more fruit and fruit related products every time they go out. It's fine; it's a little stickier and more sweet-smelling than normal in this bunker now, but fruit is good? Palamedes appreciates, like, the bite-sized nature of little fruits, so there: something he'll more than three bites of without thinking about it.
So it's breakfast time, or it's absurdly early in the morning and they've agreed to have meals at "normal times," for the sake of health and routine, and so it's time to eat a meal that is technically breakfast. The fun and unique part is going through the local fruits to see what happens, particularly after Viktor ate a handful of grapes and followed Palamedes around like his own shadow for a solid day. Food, after all, is better when it can be gamified into also being research and experimentation.
(Palamedes has put the rest of the lemons Away, but notably not Thrown Out. No, they can keep those, just not for breakfast.)
Today, Fruit Number Three, is blueberries. Palamedes isn't sure he's ever seen a real blueberry? Certainly not one that isn't freeze-dried or lab-grown, so there's a novelty to the berries as he eyes them in the thick paper container they came in. He plucks just one out of the container and holds it up to squint at, giving it a gentle, not-too-firm squeeze with his fingertips.
Honestly, it kind of reminds him of how darkblood is so fundamentally... berry-adjacent, for whatever reason. He hopes the blueberries don't stain as persistently. More importantly than that, however:]
Viktor, [good morning, sunshine,] Have any of the locals told you about blueberries?
[A sentence that would sound even more sheltered than he already is, if not for it being a time for Food with Impact. And if what he's heard suggested about these berries is true, then...
Well, it would be purely neglectful not to take advantage of it. He pops this single blueberry in his mouth and chews, making a face at it - a little sour, ick.]
Hate the texture. Anyway, there's something I think we should try.
[morning viktor is typically a little groggy, accent thick and a general irritation with the world existing until he inevitably remembers things like science and pal exist. the world is on thin ice but he'll give it that.
meaning he's yawning as he comes over, resting his forehead for a moment on pal's shoulder before forcing himself to straighten and Exist properly. or at least better.]
Mm, no, I haven't heard anything about them. Unless you mean a general understanding of their existence. [he wants to believe pal knows of blueberries. either way he assumes they Do Something.
he watches pal eat it, curious to see what effect it might have. usually mental, he's found, so he doesn't expect anything to show physically. that was for the weird flower food.]
What would you like to try? [he asks, reaching to take a blueberry, though more just to examine it. he doesn't want them both to have some weird effect until they know what it is. thank god they both didn't eat the grapes, and thank god they both had the lemon at the same time. maybe less thank god there but it would have maybe been a little Much to suddenly deal with.]
[Morning Viktor is an endlessly precious thing, in Palamedes' very informed opinion. Being used to waking up in a snap, he's had plentiful opportunities to enjoy Viktor grumbling around the bunker like it owes him something until he decides to be more awake, and that's— hmm. Part of this, the thing he's about to propose? To preserve Viktor's groggy shuffling about, the way he leans against Palamedes as if for fortitude to endure being awake. Little things, but precious ones.
So, berries. He turns his head to absently give Viktor his customary good morning forehead kiss (tm) before turning the bulk of his attention back to the berries.
They need to be watched while he thinks about this, of course.]
I know what a blueberry is. [first, let's confirm that. he knows.] I've heard it suggested that these specific blueberries can bestow a certain measure of healing abilities when eaten.
[he is further appeased by his morning forehead kiss (tm), the little crease of annoyance in his brow starting to ease, blueberry considered more thoughtfully.
good, pal knows blueberries, that's excellent news. what genuinely wakes him further is 'healing abilities,' glancing over with a quirked brow.]
You want to see if they'll work on my lungs. [he does not sound hopeful, though he doesn't sound particularly doubtful either. a careful neutrality he tries to keep about this sort of thing, for both their sakes at this point.
the blueberry he's holding gets pressed to pal's lips, a quirk of his own as he offers,] Worth a try. At the very least we can cross that off the possible blueberry effect list if it does not work.
[See, he doesn't need to say it. He's about to say something else, but ah, another blueberry. Feeding him a blueberry is only another item for the infinitely long list of reasons to try this thing, even if it sounds ridiculous - blueberries that do miracles! Okay!
Give him a moment to eat the second berry, mercifully not as sour but he still hates the texture, and he nods.]
It would be— [convenient?] —good if it does.
[It certainly sounds too good to be true, particularly in a town that has made certain to rip them apart physically or otherwise from month to month already, but he can't help but want it desperately, so.
Well, now he has to eat a lot of berries, he supposes. He lifts the container some, a little resigned, because he's already at 2 of his usual 3 bites of Any Given Food.]
It's up to you, so if you're sure, I'm going to shove half of this into my face, I suppose.
It would be pointless not to try. [viktor admits- he has no doubt allen or chizuru at least will offer the same the moment they realize, so better to be disappointed or shocked now than later.
still, pal is sweet as he always is and viktor presses a kiss to the same shoulder he was resting against a moment before, moving to sit on the edge of the table and watch this magical blueberry devouring.
of course he reaches out too, already wanting pal closer again.] It should be up to you, you are the one suffering through a food you do not like for this.
[which again, sweet. his tone is softer when he says,] Let's try it. Stranger things have happened here, though usually of the terrible variety.
[Willful Machine is, as far as Palamedes is concerned, a place where one can find anything they want as long as they think about it hard enough and know where to look. The bustling market streets are always fun and novel to him, even after months living in Trench, because there always seems to be something new to see? Some new homemade remedy (all nonsense), some new peddler on the street with wares that don't make any sense but can be pinned to a fine hat, perhaps (not that he wears hats). It's... interesting!
So naturally he's spending the afternoon trying to wheedle a bookseller into giving him better deals on her rarest tomes. The Trench gives its thickest tomes to its most persistent Sleepers, surely— he's been at it for a while. It's not a full blown argument - he's not an asshole and he doesn't want to be banned from this shop - but he's brought a series of notations about why he should be allowed to borrow rare tomes if he promises to bring them back.
It's mostly "This isn't a library," and "I'm very good at libraries, it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement with rental periods!" back and forth, but eventually, the poor woman must excuse herself to go run her business, and Palamedes is left with his sheet of paper (he literally brought notes), frowning at a shelf.
After a good twenty seconds of this he flips the paper over, producing a comically goofy pen (it has a curly straw-esque twisty part on the end, shaped like a star and very bright and neon) compared to his grey everything, and begins to scribble on the back of the page. After some of this, he turns to Another Shop Patron, uninhibited by things like people might want to browse in peace:]
Do you know anything about Moon Presence? Legends, old wives' tales, rumors? Bonus points if any of them involve a bunch of doddery old people in white robes.
[So he doesn't mean to eavesdrop on the conversation that this man and the shopkeep were having, but here he was behind a stack of books just listening in. He nearly steps in once or twice but resolves that it wasn't his business. Despite that, he thought it was quite clever to try and convince the owner to rent out tomes. True, it wasn't a library... Ryunosuke shakes his head, sighing to himself. If he got too caught up in the semantics of someone elses' conversation he was going to forget why he came to the shop, to begin with.
He had hoped to find some more novels tied to his home, but so far nothing quite of the store - but there seemed to be a few books about Trentch itself, a possible history book that well... might not make the most sense (conflicting accounts, wild tales, and the sort) but were all interesting none-the-less. Maybe it was less about the source and more about the material.
It's the pen that takes him out of his perusing of the books again, the bright neon colour that seemed to clash with the man holding it when he realizes he's being spoken to. He blinks, shaking his head 'no' at first before he remembers--]
Well, nothing like that, but I do know that she has intervened on Sleeper's behalf before. [He says with a hint of experience in his voice.] Though she's only done it once since I've been here - that I know of.
[Maybe he should go digging through the archives to see what he could find about her. She seems relatively important if she was a Pthumerian who intervened the way she did.] I suppose that doesn't quite help with what you're looking for, does it?
[Maybe, he thinks, they should just go ask someone.]
No— sort of, actually. Do you know anything about the phrase 'mother of dreams'?
[Because it's written on a big tapestry with a moon over a beach emblazoned on it, and that kind of seems like an obvious jump to make to Moon Presence. He flips the pen over a few times between his fingers, scribbles something else down - who knows what, his handwriting is usually neater than this but he's working fast and loose in the middle of this bookshop.
There are, however, a lot of question marks. He glances up around question mark number three, to ask:]
How did she intervene before? I've been here roughly six months, including - a brief respite, if you know what I mean.
[a sea monster ate him.]
I'm looking for anything at all, really. I've got bits and pieces suggesting she's a big deal to a lot of old, dead people, so— [A shrug! So now he's in the field taking notes.]
[There is a tapestry in the depths of the Sanctuary that drives Palamedes crazy on a regular basis. It's a massive, sprawling thing that would have been beautiful and striking much earlier in its life, many and many and many years ago, but now it's simply - striking in another way, for the history faded into the breadth of it and the stone wall beyond. The whole of the tapestry shows the moon cresting over a black-sand beach, with 'I am the Mother of Dreams' emblazoned above the moon's crown against the sky.
It's still beautiful, despite the fading colors, the thinned patches, the threadbare edges. It's a thing Palamedes has been staunchly defensive of since he found it, refusing to let anyone come down this corridor and pull it off the wall, much as his psychometry makes him sure there's something about the wall behind it that will open up if given the right key, just like the paleblood door.
Still: there's only so much he can do on his own, running fingers over the same edges and crouching all the way down to the ground to peer up under the tapestry to squint at the wall behind it. Over and over, and he's only gotten the same visions, the same stubborn, uh, wall-like quality of. The wall. So it's time to enlist help.
Sansa is a seamstress, and she'd been there for the paleblood door, and so he'd brought it up when they'd finished reading to the ghost of the old man one afternoon; that there's a corridor in this place that has another mystery, a place he's pretty sure can open, and he's equally sure she'll be able to help him start to crack this one. So here they are, standing in front of the tapestry that stretches far in either direction, in front of the moon itself.]
Well, here we go. What do you think? It's nice, isn't it— but 'nice' doesn't answer any of the questions.
[it's a beautiful tapestry, and sansa's very glad to be trusted with a scholarly mission, of sorts. she peers at it closely, lady sitting neatly a few paces behind her. it's frayed in a few places, and could use some darning. she's not sure what to do about the fading, but perhaps one of adaine's spells could be adapted for dyes...she glances back at palamedes and smiles.]
It's lovely. I don't know that I can answer your questions, but I can darn the edges and whatever else.
[she ghosts a hand over the moon at the center, frowning slightly in concentration. there's an odd pattern of wear, almost as if someone's been...pulling at it? the elaborate chatelaine she wears when tailoring remotely comes with a magnifying glass. she's never had cause to use it, but she pulls it up now, to peer at the fibers of the moon. they definitely appear...stretched.]
There's been a lot of wear in the center, which is strange. It almost looks like someone's been pulling the thread in different directions.
[she steps neatly to the side of the moon and peers at the background through her magnifying glass, then glances back at palamedes again.]
I think it's only where the moon is.
[lady walks past the tapestry, giving it all a thorough sniff.]
There's a lot of magic here, but I don't have to tell you that. And something...
[she almost wants to knock on the wall behind the center of the tapestry, where the moon is. it sounds...hollow? lady can hear the little sounds of an empty room behind it. but there's a kind of...white noise that keeps fading in and out. if sansa knew what static was meant to sound like, she might be able to describe it. the closest she can come is the sound of the ocean, but deadened somehow.]
Yes, I do think there is another room behind this wall. Perhaps we could move the tapestry?
[she hopes he will think to use his darkblood powers for this without having to be told. he does seem to rely on necromancy for things other darkbloods seem to do almost unthinkingly.]
[Palamedes watches her observe the parts of the tapestry, snapping his fingers in a little nerd victory when she says it's only the spot with the moon that seems stretched. He does not explain this immediately, but hm, good eye? Good eye.
He certainly knows where the magic is, having touched everything here, but it's still good to have it confirmed. He takes to pacing a bit, in front of where the moon is, occasionally looking at the moon itself or up to the words at the top, thinking. This place - is definitely obsessed with the moon, and with palebloods, and so maybe the key to getting through the tapestry's hidden door is similar to the last one? Hmm.
...Anyway: moving the thing. He blinks up at it, and then down the corridor, at the rest of it... it's large...]
Where are we going to put something of this size where it won't be damaged further? Half this building is still a ruin.
[sansa steps back from the tapestry, frowning slightly. she clasps her arms behind her back. she's used to less than pristine working conditions, though she's less familiar with tapestry weaving.]
Well, the roof is good. We only need a big table in one of the rooms no one's using. You shouldn't have any trouble clearing debris with your Darkblood powers. I know a spell to mend cloth; I wonder if it could be adapted to mend thinning threads and faded dye instead. Adaine did use it on paper first, when she showed me.
[there's probably something. perhaps a healing spell? She's never tried, but there's no reason she couldn't learn it.]
[So, magic is fun. That's putting it mildly; magic is vast and multifaceted and different every time Palamedes hears about it, and while people in this place tend to give him sidelong looks after they hear "necromancer," like he's a ticking time bomb on the verge of raising the dead to chew on brains at any moment (tacky; they don't even do that, that's just reductive to assume), he remains eager to talk shop about magic whenever he can. Even just reframing "necromancer" into "wizard with necromancy" helps, particularly because no one believes him when he says psychometry is one of his necromancer skills...
Point being: Viktor knows a lot of magically-inclined people, himself included, and so when he mentions that Palamedes might enjoy exchanging some magical techniques and ideas with the young lady who'd helped to open the paleblood door - Luna, he remembers - he's all for it. He's made tea; there are biscuits. The ghost of the old man flickers faintly in a corner of his study, while Palamedes fusses over one of his wards on the walls between two sets of shelves.
This is what he's doing when snacks and tea and magic talk time rolls around, and he glances up when movement catches his eye at the open doorway—]
Hi— you're right on time, I'm lagging behind. This ward needed an adjustment. [An adjustment he's doing with his thumb, which he's bloodied on a pin, but the ward isn't very big so this is enough blood for the job.] There's tea; help yourself, I'm almost done.
[ Necromancer had certainly given Luna pause when she'd heard it. Death is usually one of those untouchable things back home in her world; the dead cannot be brought back — albeit in the form of Inferi. Dark and powerful magic by wizarding world standards. But years of Deerington has shifted her mindset a great deal. Death is very different, as are the dead themselves. Paimon, after all, can make dead things breathe again — animals usually, for short periods of time. And she doesn't think there's anything dark to it, it just... is.
Still, other magic-users after often a welcome sight in her eyes. She's always quite eager to talk with them. Announcing herself in the room with a little knock before she enters with a small smile. She waves cheerfully, politely to the elderly ghost in silent greeting; he's nice, she thinks. ]
Oh, that's alright. [ Luna's in no rush, wanders up breezily to the sight of tea and biscuits before her with interest. She'll start pouring, opting to pour him a cup while she's at it. ] Do you need any help—? I've found it's quite helpful to have multiple users put down enchantments, one can never be without too much protection in this world.
[ Deerington was much of the same, unfortunately. ]
[Palamedes glances at her over his shoulder, nodding approvingly to see she has indeed helped herself. Good, good; magic meeting already going great. The ward on the other hand is going dry, and so he jams his thumb into the point of the pin again and huffs, less approvingly.]
You're lucky you're a paleblood; darkblood is stubborn to an unnecessary degree.
[Mostly just that it needs the shot of magic to even manifest as wet blood, making even this tiny ward more effort than it needs to be. He smudges a circle closed, squinting at it and then over at the ghost of the old man, to see if it's worked.]
And I'll take whatever you've got, if you can bridge the gap between spirits and the living. This is for him; [our dear old grandpa] so he can come and go as he pleases, without me having to break out the marker and draw a new ward every time.
[A beat, and he twists around to look at her properly, eyebrows raised curiously.] Do you know an enchantment like that? I wonder if your influence is stronger than mine, in this particular building.
I'm aware, my boyfriend's a Darkblood. [ And yes, Peter's had to do some blood magic on occasion which has been..... less than easy.
She's thoughtful for a moment. Honestly she's never really considered ghosts breaking wards. It's not really an issue she or other witches and wizards have come across back home. Ghosts do just seem to go wherever they want without harming enchantments placed, as far as she knows. ]
Well, I can do wards without using blood. I don't think that's an issue with the protective charms that we do back home. It's mostly towards living things, and keeping anything malicious back. Ghosts aren't affected.
[ There's a shrug, and she smiles gently. ]
So I suppose anything wand-work-wise that I might do would let him pass without me needing to immediately recast it. It would only need maintained every so often. [ She draws her wand at that. ] Protecting a room is easier than an entire building, so I could add something here no trouble.
Can you? Ward? [God, that must be convenient,] I can only put down the lasting ones with blood; the shield-type I have to hold up manually.
[And then he sweats blood anyway, so is it worth it. Almost never. But it's a handy trick in a pinch.
He goggles at the wand a bit like a kid in a candy store; there's nothing wandlike in necromancy, and the idea of that kind of medium is-? Fascinating, to say the least.]
I think that would help— apparently a lot of people here really hate ghosts, which is immature, at best.
[He's still a little irate at just how many people wanted to burn his haunted doll on sight even after hearing that an actual spirit lives in it? Or heard that and wanted to burn it more? Ghost rights, holy shit.]
Could you- let me finish this, hold on.
[Finishing is more like just checking it over, touching a few points here and there to tidy it up, before he's turning fully to face her and sticking his bleeding finger in his mouth, to stop said bleeding. Cool.]
Mhm, although there's witches and wizards back home who can do it far better than I can. But they're much older and have more skill. [ But she's getting better. She certainly gets a great deal of practice here, and in Deerington. There's a blink and her face brightens in pleasant surprise. ] I can do one of those, too! Like in a fight, or a duel? It's very helpful for a brief shield.
[ It's nice when she finds some similarities. ]
Ghosts are lovely! Some of them back home were my friends. [ There's a little smile, fond. She liked The Grey Lady most, Helena. Not only with her being her House ghost, but well... she was nice. She always had time for her. So yes, Ghost rights!
She waits patiently while he finishes up, smiling dreamily for a moment. Of course, she'll do a spell! There's a nod at that before she turns towards the door. They're best done there, considering it's an entrance — to protect the whole room.
Raising her left hand up, fingers splayed, she then raises her wand and draws it downwards as she utters: ]
Protego totalum.
[ There's a soft skittering sound. The air before her warps and shifts gently — like a heat-haze. It blooms outwards as it takes hold, ripples in the air before it fades to nothing. She steps away, grinning slightly in amusement. ]
.. I could probably do something a flashier, if you'd prefer. [ Considering that was rather visually subtle for a spell. ] Transfigure a teacup or something like that.
[So: tarot. Palamedes does some casual research in his free time, in the intervening days, and the idea is interesting. He knows prescient people, and the paleblood shelf of abilities has similar energies, sometimes - delving into the mind, and so on - so he's curious about the kind of thing a card reading can see and accomplish.
He gives Ada time to heal and recover after her episode coming back from the sea; he's more than understanding about needing more than just the ability to walk to return, it's an emotional time— but he has offered this tarot-sharing experience as a sort of distraction from lingering unpleasantness, so. Mustn't dally too long.
He brings a thermos of tea and some shortbread biscuits, as the polite thing to do, when it's time for the tarot meeting. At the door, he knocks.]
Hello? It's Palamedes, from— the internet...? [god.] I've brought my haunted doll.
[yeah that's even better than "from the internet," nice one]
[Ada had recovered as much as she can and was rather glad that she was able to move about again. But today she had plans to see someone about Tarot stuff which she was honestly happy about and was a good distraction for anything.
She had brought the deck she had arrived with when she went to the meeting]
I don't know what the internet is... [As much as she has learned about texting at least being from the Victorian period such things hadn't been invented at that time.]
I guess today will be a good day with tarot and dolls.
Frankly, neither do I, but I've been told it's housed in the omni network.
[So, something like that! He shrugs, offering her a half-smile for oops, we both don't know about these futuristic and/or incredibly ancient technologies. It lives in the omni, for sure.]
Anyway, that's the spirit. [haha.] Do you want to sit? We can start with the doll.
[She's here, in his Sleeper backpack, her little doll head poking out, like a confusing and haunted baby carrier. He turns halfway to show Ada this, gesturing over his shoulder.]
Sitting might be the better idea since we need a table to sit at. [Even if they were doing something else first it was just wise so they didn't need to move or something later as she smiled seeing the doll. They were so cute yet so tragic.]
[Some of them don't talk, he's found; his own and his boyfriend's just make standard animal noises instead of talking back, which honestly he's glad for.
Anyway, it's a fairly decent enough day out that they can find an outdoor table to sit at, in the shade under a nice tree, a huge concession from Palamedes who doesn't like to be aware the sun is out at all, let alone spend much time outdoors. He puts the bag on the table and lifts haunted little Bethany out of it, sitting her down on the table and giving her teeny doll shoe an affectionate squeeze. Aw, look at her.]
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deercountry2022-05-24 11:36 pm
fruit loops
So it's breakfast time, or it's absurdly early in the morning and they've agreed to have meals at "normal times," for the sake of health and routine, and so it's time to eat a meal that is technically breakfast. The fun and unique part is going through the local fruits to see what happens, particularly after Viktor ate a handful of grapes and followed Palamedes around like his own shadow for a solid day. Food, after all, is better when it can be gamified into also being research and experimentation.
(Palamedes has put the rest of the lemons Away, but notably not Thrown Out. No, they can keep those, just not for breakfast.)
Today, Fruit Number Three, is blueberries. Palamedes isn't sure he's ever seen a real blueberry? Certainly not one that isn't freeze-dried or lab-grown, so there's a novelty to the berries as he eyes them in the thick paper container they came in. He plucks just one out of the container and holds it up to squint at, giving it a gentle, not-too-firm squeeze with his fingertips.
Honestly, it kind of reminds him of how darkblood is so fundamentally... berry-adjacent, for whatever reason. He hopes the blueberries don't stain as persistently. More importantly than that, however:]
Viktor, [good morning, sunshine,] Have any of the locals told you about blueberries?
[A sentence that would sound even more sheltered than he already is, if not for it being a time for Food with Impact. And if what he's heard suggested about these berries is true, then...
Well, it would be purely neglectful not to take advantage of it. He pops this single blueberry in his mouth and chews, making a face at it - a little sour, ick.]
Hate the texture. Anyway, there's something I think we should try.
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meaning he's yawning as he comes over, resting his forehead for a moment on pal's shoulder before forcing himself to straighten and Exist properly. or at least better.]
Mm, no, I haven't heard anything about them. Unless you mean a general understanding of their existence. [he wants to believe pal knows of blueberries. either way he assumes they Do Something.
he watches pal eat it, curious to see what effect it might have. usually mental, he's found, so he doesn't expect anything to show physically. that was for the weird flower food.]
What would you like to try? [he asks, reaching to take a blueberry, though more just to examine it. he doesn't want them both to have some weird effect until they know what it is. thank god they both didn't eat the grapes, and thank god they both had the lemon at the same time. maybe less thank god there but it would have maybe been a little Much to suddenly deal with.]
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So, berries. He turns his head to absently give Viktor his customary good morning forehead kiss (tm) before turning the bulk of his attention back to the berries.
They need to be watched while he thinks about this, of course.]
I know what a blueberry is. [first, let's confirm that. he knows.] I've heard it suggested that these specific blueberries can bestow a certain measure of healing abilities when eaten.
[Glance...... he doesn't need to say the rest.]
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good, pal knows blueberries, that's excellent news. what genuinely wakes him further is 'healing abilities,' glancing over with a quirked brow.]
You want to see if they'll work on my lungs. [he does not sound hopeful, though he doesn't sound particularly doubtful either. a careful neutrality he tries to keep about this sort of thing, for both their sakes at this point.
the blueberry he's holding gets pressed to pal's lips, a quirk of his own as he offers,] Worth a try. At the very least we can cross that off the possible blueberry effect list if it does not work.
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Give him a moment to eat the second berry, mercifully not as sour but he still hates the texture, and he nods.]
It would be— [convenient?] —good if it does.
[It certainly sounds too good to be true, particularly in a town that has made certain to rip them apart physically or otherwise from month to month already, but he can't help but want it desperately, so.
Well, now he has to eat a lot of berries, he supposes. He lifts the container some, a little resigned, because he's already at 2 of his usual 3 bites of Any Given Food.]
It's up to you, so if you're sure, I'm going to shove half of this into my face, I suppose.
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still, pal is sweet as he always is and viktor presses a kiss to the same shoulder he was resting against a moment before, moving to sit on the edge of the table and watch this magical blueberry devouring.
of course he reaches out too, already wanting pal closer again.] It should be up to you, you are the one suffering through a food you do not like for this.
[which again, sweet. his tone is softer when he says,] Let's try it. Stranger things have happened here, though usually of the terrible variety.
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do i cw for horny on main, i suppose so
same cw, what can you do
cw still a little horny, implied
again maybe a touch of horny still mentioned, avert innocent eyes
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cw vaguely suicidal ideation kind of?? trench version where you're not permadead so idk
broad cw for illness talk for likely the rest of this thread
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cryptid hunter
So naturally he's spending the afternoon trying to wheedle a bookseller into giving him better deals on her rarest tomes. The Trench gives its thickest tomes to its most persistent Sleepers, surely— he's been at it for a while. It's not a full blown argument - he's not an asshole and he doesn't want to be banned from this shop - but he's brought a series of notations about why he should be allowed to borrow rare tomes if he promises to bring them back.
It's mostly "This isn't a library," and "I'm very good at libraries, it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement with rental periods!" back and forth, but eventually, the poor woman must excuse herself to go run her business, and Palamedes is left with his sheet of paper (he literally brought notes), frowning at a shelf.
After a good twenty seconds of this he flips the paper over, producing a comically goofy pen (it has a curly straw-esque twisty part on the end, shaped like a star and very bright and neon) compared to his grey everything, and begins to scribble on the back of the page. After some of this, he turns to Another Shop Patron, uninhibited by things like people might want to browse in peace:]
Do you know anything about Moon Presence? Legends, old wives' tales, rumors? Bonus points if any of them involve a bunch of doddery old people in white robes.
[you know, normal stuff.]
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He had hoped to find some more novels tied to his home, but so far nothing quite of the store - but there seemed to be a few books about Trentch itself, a possible history book that well... might not make the most sense (conflicting accounts, wild tales, and the sort) but were all interesting none-the-less. Maybe it was less about the source and more about the material.
It's the pen that takes him out of his perusing of the books again, the bright neon colour that seemed to clash with the man holding it when he realizes he's being spoken to. He blinks, shaking his head 'no' at first before he remembers--]
Well, nothing like that, but I do know that she has intervened on Sleeper's behalf before. [He says with a hint of experience in his voice.] Though she's only done it once since I've been here - that I know of.
[Maybe he should go digging through the archives to see what he could find about her. She seems relatively important if she was a Pthumerian who intervened the way she did.] I suppose that doesn't quite help with what you're looking for, does it?
[Maybe, he thinks, they should just go ask someone.]
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[Because it's written on a big tapestry with a moon over a beach emblazoned on it, and that kind of seems like an obvious jump to make to Moon Presence. He flips the pen over a few times between his fingers, scribbles something else down - who knows what, his handwriting is usually neater than this but he's working fast and loose in the middle of this bookshop.
There are, however, a lot of question marks. He glances up around question mark number three, to ask:]
How did she intervene before? I've been here roughly six months, including - a brief respite, if you know what I mean.
[a sea monster ate him.]
I'm looking for anything at all, really. I've got bits and pieces suggesting she's a big deal to a lot of old, dead people, so— [A shrug! So now he's in the field taking notes.]
june nightmares but make it gay
learning about threadcount at the spooky tapestry
It's still beautiful, despite the fading colors, the thinned patches, the threadbare edges. It's a thing Palamedes has been staunchly defensive of since he found it, refusing to let anyone come down this corridor and pull it off the wall, much as his psychometry makes him sure there's something about the wall behind it that will open up if given the right key, just like the paleblood door.
Still: there's only so much he can do on his own, running fingers over the same edges and crouching all the way down to the ground to peer up under the tapestry to squint at the wall behind it. Over and over, and he's only gotten the same visions, the same stubborn, uh, wall-like quality of. The wall. So it's time to enlist help.
Sansa is a seamstress, and she'd been there for the paleblood door, and so he'd brought it up when they'd finished reading to the ghost of the old man one afternoon; that there's a corridor in this place that has another mystery, a place he's pretty sure can open, and he's equally sure she'll be able to help him start to crack this one. So here they are, standing in front of the tapestry that stretches far in either direction, in front of the moon itself.]
Well, here we go. What do you think? It's nice, isn't it— but 'nice' doesn't answer any of the questions.
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It's lovely. I don't know that I can answer your questions, but I can darn the edges and whatever else.
[she ghosts a hand over the moon at the center, frowning slightly in concentration. there's an odd pattern of wear, almost as if someone's been...pulling at it? the elaborate chatelaine she wears when tailoring remotely comes with a magnifying glass. she's never had cause to use it, but she pulls it up now, to peer at the fibers of the moon. they definitely appear...stretched.]
There's been a lot of wear in the center, which is strange. It almost looks like someone's been pulling the thread in different directions.
[she steps neatly to the side of the moon and peers at the background through her magnifying glass, then glances back at palamedes again.]
I think it's only where the moon is.
[lady walks past the tapestry, giving it all a thorough sniff.]
There's a lot of magic here, but I don't have to tell you that. And something...
[she almost wants to knock on the wall behind the center of the tapestry, where the moon is. it sounds...hollow? lady can hear the little sounds of an empty room behind it. but there's a kind of...white noise that keeps fading in and out. if sansa knew what static was meant to sound like, she might be able to describe it. the closest she can come is the sound of the ocean, but deadened somehow.]
Yes, I do think there is another room behind this wall. Perhaps we could move the tapestry?
[she hopes he will think to use his darkblood powers for this without having to be told. he does seem to rely on necromancy for things other darkbloods seem to do almost unthinkingly.]
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He certainly knows where the magic is, having touched everything here, but it's still good to have it confirmed. He takes to pacing a bit, in front of where the moon is, occasionally looking at the moon itself or up to the words at the top, thinking. This place - is definitely obsessed with the moon, and with palebloods, and so maybe the key to getting through the tapestry's hidden door is similar to the last one? Hmm.
...Anyway: moving the thing. He blinks up at it, and then down the corridor, at the rest of it... it's large...]
Where are we going to put something of this size where it won't be damaged further? Half this building is still a ruin.
[His dream of a conservatory, so far away...]
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Well, the roof is good. We only need a big table in one of the rooms no one's using. You shouldn't have any trouble clearing debris with your Darkblood powers. I know a spell to mend cloth; I wonder if it could be adapted to mend thinning threads and faded dye instead. Adaine did use it on paper first, when she showed me.
[there's probably something. perhaps a healing spell? She's never tried, but there's no reason she couldn't learn it.]
june sanctuary time: Wizard Exchange
Point being: Viktor knows a lot of magically-inclined people, himself included, and so when he mentions that Palamedes might enjoy exchanging some magical techniques and ideas with the young lady who'd helped to open the paleblood door - Luna, he remembers - he's all for it. He's made tea; there are biscuits. The ghost of the old man flickers faintly in a corner of his study, while Palamedes fusses over one of his wards on the walls between two sets of shelves.
This is what he's doing when snacks and tea and magic talk time rolls around, and he glances up when movement catches his eye at the open doorway—]
Hi— you're right on time, I'm lagging behind. This ward needed an adjustment. [An adjustment he's doing with his thumb, which he's bloodied on a pin, but the ward isn't very big so this is enough blood for the job.] There's tea; help yourself, I'm almost done.
and here's my slow butt
Still, other magic-users after often a welcome sight in her eyes. She's always quite eager to talk with them. Announcing herself in the room with a little knock before she enters with a small smile. She waves cheerfully, politely to the elderly ghost in silent greeting; he's nice, she thinks. ]
Oh, that's alright. [ Luna's in no rush, wanders up breezily to the sight of tea and biscuits before her with interest. She'll start pouring, opting to pour him a cup while she's at it. ] Do you need any help—? I've found it's quite helpful to have multiple users put down enchantments, one can never be without too much protection in this world.
[ Deerington was much of the same, unfortunately. ]
welcome 😌
You're lucky you're a paleblood; darkblood is stubborn to an unnecessary degree.
[Mostly just that it needs the shot of magic to even manifest as wet blood, making even this tiny ward more effort than it needs to be. He smudges a circle closed, squinting at it and then over at the ghost of the old man, to see if it's worked.]
And I'll take whatever you've got, if you can bridge the gap between spirits and the living. This is for him; [our dear old grandpa] so he can come and go as he pleases, without me having to break out the marker and draw a new ward every time.
[A beat, and he twists around to look at her properly, eyebrows raised curiously.] Do you know an enchantment like that? I wonder if your influence is stronger than mine, in this particular building.
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She's thoughtful for a moment. Honestly she's never really considered ghosts breaking wards. It's not really an issue she or other witches and wizards have come across back home. Ghosts do just seem to go wherever they want without harming enchantments placed, as far as she knows. ]
Well, I can do wards without using blood. I don't think that's an issue with the protective charms that we do back home. It's mostly towards living things, and keeping anything malicious back. Ghosts aren't affected.
[ There's a shrug, and she smiles gently. ]
So I suppose anything wand-work-wise that I might do would let him pass without me needing to immediately recast it. It would only need maintained every so often. [ She draws her wand at that. ] Protecting a room is easier than an entire building, so I could add something here no trouble.
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[And then he sweats blood anyway, so is it worth it. Almost never. But it's a handy trick in a pinch.
He goggles at the wand a bit like a kid in a candy store; there's nothing wandlike in necromancy, and the idea of that kind of medium is-? Fascinating, to say the least.]
I think that would help— apparently a lot of people here really hate ghosts, which is immature, at best.
[He's still a little irate at just how many people wanted to burn his haunted doll on sight even after hearing that an actual spirit lives in it? Or heard that and wanted to burn it more? Ghost rights, holy shit.]
Could you- let me finish this, hold on.
[Finishing is more like just checking it over, touching a few points here and there to tidy it up, before he's turning fully to face her and sticking his bleeding finger in his mouth, to stop said bleeding. Cool.]
Okay, I would love to see a spell.
i didn't get the notif for this RUDE DW
[ It's nice when she finds some similarities. ]
Ghosts are lovely! Some of them back home were my friends. [ There's a little smile, fond. She liked The Grey Lady most, Helena. Not only with her being her House ghost, but well... she was nice. She always had time for her. So yes, Ghost rights!
She waits patiently while he finishes up, smiling dreamily for a moment. Of course, she'll do a spell! There's a nod at that before she turns towards the door. They're best done there, considering it's an entrance — to protect the whole room.
Raising her left hand up, fingers splayed, she then raises her wand and draws it downwards as she utters: ]
Protego totalum.
[ There's a soft skittering sound. The air before her warps and shifts gently — like a heat-haze. It blooms outwards as it takes hold, ripples in the air before it fades to nothing. She steps away, grinning slightly in amusement. ]
.. I could probably do something a flashier, if you'd prefer. [ Considering that was rather visually subtle for a spell. ] Transfigure a teacup or something like that.
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june: tarot reading experience
He gives Ada time to heal and recover after her episode coming back from the sea; he's more than understanding about needing more than just the ability to walk to return, it's an emotional time— but he has offered this tarot-sharing experience as a sort of distraction from lingering unpleasantness, so. Mustn't dally too long.
He brings a thermos of tea and some shortbread biscuits, as the polite thing to do, when it's time for the tarot meeting. At the door, he knocks.]
Hello? It's Palamedes, from— the internet...? [god.] I've brought my haunted doll.
[yeah that's even better than "from the internet," nice one]
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She had brought the deck she had arrived with when she went to the meeting]
I don't know what the internet is... [As much as she has learned about texting at least being from the Victorian period such things hadn't been invented at that time.]
I guess today will be a good day with tarot and dolls.
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[So, something like that! He shrugs, offering her a half-smile for oops, we both don't know about these futuristic and/or incredibly ancient technologies. It lives in the omni, for sure.]
Anyway, that's the spirit. [haha.] Do you want to sit? We can start with the doll.
[She's here, in his Sleeper backpack, her little doll head poking out, like a confusing and haunted baby carrier. He turns halfway to show Ada this, gesturing over his shoulder.]
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[Not that he will respond, but still...]
Sitting might be the better idea since we need a table to sit at. [Even if they were doing something else first it was just wise so they didn't need to move or something later as she smiled seeing the doll. They were so cute yet so tragic.]
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[Some of them don't talk, he's found; his own and his boyfriend's just make standard animal noises instead of talking back, which honestly he's glad for.
Anyway, it's a fairly decent enough day out that they can find an outdoor table to sit at, in the shade under a nice tree, a huge concession from Palamedes who doesn't like to be aware the sun is out at all, let alone spend much time outdoors. He puts the bag on the table and lifts haunted little Bethany out of it, sitting her down on the table and giving her teeny doll shoe an affectionate squeeze. Aw, look at her.]
Well, here she is.
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