deercountry | 006: So tell me where to put my love

Entry tags:

006: So tell me where to put my love

Who: Xerxes Break, close CR, possibly new people
What: Break runs afoul of the Lavish Desires prompt and goes on a darkblood bender about conjuring up unbirthday presents. Some prompts closed, two prompts open to all.
When: Second half of August
Where: Pandora House + avoiding Pandora House so his kids don't yell at him for overdoing stupid shit again

Content Warnings: Obsessive feelings and mania, flooding, drowning, PTSD, withering illness and struggling to breathe, that whole thing where he used to be a serial killer back in the day; others added as necessary

As so often happens for Xerxes Break, Trench's latest idiotic curse on him appears, at first glance, to be little more than a fit of nerves about his usual problems.

First, he becomes thoroughly gripped by the notion that he needs to train harder and harder in the darkblood powers he was so afraid of for so long and still doesn't entirely trust -- well, that makes fine sense. Even outside of his concern about keeping up with those who are stronger than he is in this place, incidents in July proved to him that the practical applications of his work will be worth the risks. Break also finds himself haunted by an awkward need to express his affections to the people he's grown so attached to here. This, too, mostly just feels like a preoccupation that is a long time coming. The first anniversary of his arrival in Trench is swift approaching and Break is painfully aware of it. The many regrets he's been fostering about how he wasn't able to truly reach out to his loved ones in his last life until the very end of it are all the more potent now, and a recent decision to really try to be honest about things was enough to halt Ange's progressing beasthood even if he wasn't able to reverse it. Then, too, Oz Vessalius returned to the sea recently and left the whole house in a pall of grief in his wake. Loss has made Break restless and searching for motivation for as long as he can remember. The main ways he can find to cope with this one all have to do with pouring his attention into others who are still around to need him.

So, it seems only natural when all this culminates in an urge to conjure up unbirthday presents for everyone. This is way easier and less embarrassing than words, and also it will give him plenty of conjuring practice. Definitely this is just Xerxes Break thinking his thoughts and has nothing to do with a dunk in icky cursed floodwaters.

Break's omen, of course, catches on quickly to this whole thing where it devolves into a manic obsession almost immediately. Baltus decides, in his wisdom, to simply let Break have at it. For one thing, it will be good to give him the opportunity to actually catch himself and reach out for help on his own, even if chances are slim to nonexistent that this will happen. For another, Break is the sort of person who needs to learn things the hard way sometimes -- and, if Baltus intervenes, it will just clue Break in to ways he could and should be sneakier about his bad behaviors. If Break is permitted to crash and burn, the kids will notice, and he won't be able to hide the very specific warning signs they need to be keeping an eye out for in the future.

Meh. If Break starts growing beast parts in all this, Baltus will sound the alarm. And so begins the unbirthday bender.

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[The thorn hedge will keep rampaging death toddlers away from the house; floodwaters, not so much. It's a scramble, but with all the brute strength and darkblood in the house, they have time to build up a sizable wall of sandbags around the perimeter before the worst of the flash floods set in. That keeps the place protected for quite some time. One night when the moon is a particularly eery red, however, a glance outside reveals the courtyard slowly filling with water. Break grabs the nearest brat and runs right out to find and fix the breach.

For the most part what Qrow will feel on the other side of his blood bond with Break is just that his lover has gone into business mode -- there is definitely something urgent happening and Break is concerned about it, alert, but whatever's going on is being handled. A feeling of concentration implies that he's using his darkblood powers for something; that's when he uses his new shield to hold the surging water back long enough for Gil to get the wall back in order. Several minutes later, satisfaction follows. They're still outside in the thick of the storm, but they've succeeded, and Break has gotten away with not ruining everything with his powers yet again.

The real trouble is that he's outside the sandbag wall, standing in thigh deep, fast-moving floodwaters. And when he begins to move around the wall to find a more stable spot to vault back over, some debris beneath the water hits him with enough force to sweep him off his feet.

His panic is intense and immediate. This isn't the same as becoming human again in the ocean, but the water is just deep enough, growing deeper, and has enough of a current as it surges downhill that he isn't able to find his feet right away. The awful red moonlight doesn't do him any favors at all. What with all that and the speed at which he's pulled under, he may as well be blind and lost again, wondering if today will be the day he finally overdoes it and drowns in his own blood, and in his struggle to right himself Break forgets where he is entirely.

Baltus is there, of course, giving him something to cling to and a way to keep his head above the water. It's the omen who spots a solid tree for Break to brace against and aims them that direction, and passes along a message to Gil to hold his position instead of rushing out to find them. It will take them a moment to sort out where they are in connection to the house, and in the meantime, Break leans against the tree the waters are shoving him up against anyway and coughs and coughs, shaking with horrible adrenaline.]

[The thing with Break is that he is a professional jock because hitting things with a sword was the family business. And he enjoys it! He very much enjoys hitting things with a sword. But the truth is that there's a latent theater kid lurking inside this middle-aged Victorian man, and while he has been doing his best to approach this darkblood stuff with all the serious practicality of sword drills he's been doing for decades, his undeniable flair for the dramatic has been increasingly coloring his thoughts on magic. Look. Even Ange, with her intense lack of desire to be perceived, has golden butterflies that appear when she conjures things and it's neat and it makes him happy. It just seems that if you are going to do magic at all you ought to be really aware that that's what it is, you know?

To that end, Break's first order of business when he decides to commit is to march himself off to the art supply store immediately after it opens.]

Well, if I'm to be a proper nerd now I need a journal, you see, Baltus. And it's got to be a really good one, the sort of thing you look at and say, "Ah, that belongs to Xerxes Break." And it's got to be a good sturdy thing so I can take it about on excursions. I ought to get some colorful ink pens of my own, do you suppose? Young Dipper's creepy ghost notes are all color-coded I notice, and I imagine it will be a big pain for me if I make off with the Alices' pens and they miss them --

[He cuts off abruptly as he scans the shelves, because his omen has located a journal with a freaking eyeball on it and is pointing his long snoot at it, wagging his tail wickedly as he gazes up at his person. Break gives Baltus a disgusted look.]

-- no.

[The second order of business in all this is a research phase. You would think this would mean something serious like camping out in the Archives or something, but no.

Break has instead camped out in the movie room and is having a musical princess movie marathon.

Feel free to join him for such wonders as Ballgown Princess, which results in a whole lot of scribbling in his swanky new journal about turning things into other things rather than conjuring from scratch. The bits in the Sleeping Princess movie when the fairies shield the prince from various misfortunes as he escapes get more of the same, as well as some intense squinting as an idea plants itself deep in his brain which will become something fully-fledged much later on. And of course, we have the Frozen Queen, whose lesson is a much less subtle echo of Ange's comment earlier that her own magic becomes easier to wield if she is making something she associates with someone she cares for.]

"Love. Of course."

[Break mutters along with the movie at that point, still scribbling. His "notes" look exactly as you'd expect from a guy who had to be ruthlessly chased across his workplace and forced to do his paperwork at all ever in his previous life. Which is to say, this page has a doodle of the snow queen on it, with an angry little crow behind her with a speech bubble that says "go fuck yourself" in it. In this house we protect Qrow Branwen from cheesy stories about uncontrollable damaging powers that magically become good ones the second you decide you simply aren't going to have anxiety anymore.]

[Even in his current state, Break is a shifty creature, and well aware that if he locks himself in a room somewhere at home for all his practice this will be noticed and there will be interference from well-meaning brats who want him to be healthy and sensible and it will be extremely annoying. So, to throw everyone off course and also just for the change in scenery, periodically Break takes himself out to any one of his favorite cafés around Trench, acquires an entire table for himself, and gets to work right there in public like a hipster focused intensely on the very serious novel he is writing.

Baltus approves of and encourages this, since it means there are waitstaff at hand to make certain Break eats, which is even more important when you have stopped sleeping.

For the most part Break's workspace is exactly what you'd expect -- the journal laying open a little to the side here has a bunch of idiotic doodles mixed in with the actual notes, and half of the items littering the table are a plate and teacup graveyard doused in pastry crumbs. But the attention-grabbing bit is the purple light that fizzles in and out of existence whenever he conjures anything. And he is conjuring. Whenever the light fades there's something in his hands that was not there before. A knife, perhaps, or a faceted bit of glass that he turns just so to see whether it splits colors to his satisfaction.

If he's approached by someone he's making something for, depending how far along he is in the proceedings, they may receive a present on the spot or he may slam the journal shut and try to deflect. But for most anyone who decides to join him, stranger or otherwise, Break is remarkably welcoming for someone who is having his obsessive focus interrupted. After all, a part of this is simply training, and it has crossed his mind that any poor suckers who stray too close have the potential to be idea fountains if he can pick their brains.]

[The symptoms start to kick in a few days into the obsessive "training". They're old symptoms, familiar ones, and they were the daily norm for so long that even after a year without them, Break can't be bothered to pay much attention. The irritating flutter that stirs in his chest from time to time? Not heart palpitations yet. The urge to cough? Soothed by tea, which he's drinking in spades. The aches and pains settling with increasing insistence into his joints? A side effect of staying in one position too long as he works, and a reminder to do his usual daily stretches.

Because he's using his powers so constantly and wearing himself out besides, they get worse rapidly. By the time the week is winding down and the curse is starting to release its hold on him, every move he makes hurts, he's dizzy if he stands too quickly, and getting enough air into his lungs feels like a conscious battle.

Break isn't certain exactly what's caused this -- given Trench it could be any number of things, not just everything he's been up to this past week -- and he's still addled enough by the curse that his first impulse, Breakishly, is to hide it. Get to the kitchen for water and something easy to eat and retreat to his bed to sleep it off in solitude, where no one can fuss or worry or scold him. His first impulse is to not get caught, and keep his pains to himself and figure it all out later.

Baltus watches him closely as he makes his way to the kitchen, leaning against the wall for support. It is almost time to intervene. Fortunately, Gilbert is in that kitchen, and Baltus is not going to warn Break of this.]

[Break sleeps a solid three days after he collapses -- which, Baltus assures those who have never seen him do this before, is entirely normal for an occasion when Break Overdoes It. During this time the omen carries on with his house patrols and visits as though nothing is wrong and Break is simply resting as he always might at the end of a long day, which ought to be a reassurance for everyone involved. And certainly when he wakes, he seems none the worse for wear -- a lack of energy and a lingering, non-bloody cough are all that remains of his bout of illness. He's always tended to bounce back faster than he ought to, and the advanced healing his Sleeper blood gives him certainly helps too.

He spends a lot of time in bed after that anyway, processing that frenzied week and all the feelings that came with it, and thoroughly embarrassed that things went as far as they did. You'd think after nearly a year in this place he'd have started to catch on to the onset of Trench nonsense, but no. The upside to this one is that the end results are positive ones, and this little misadventure is something he'll learn from far more than something he'll recover from.

Looking back over his notes and seeing all the things he's made, Break is a little impressed with himself, honestly. A great deal of what he's accomplished was made possible by the weird power surges that have been hitting people this month and he probably won't be able to duplicate some of them later, but the theory is sound.

Still. It was embarrassing. And Baltus snitched about what he was up to, so everybody knows he was being some sort of obsessive feral Santa Claus all week instead of something less disgusting, like running off to commit vengeance murder or something. Which means now he has to get his game face back on enough to act cool and nonchalant about giving people things. Maybe he can sneak around behind everyone's backs and leave things around for them such that they never have to talk about anything, if they don't come to visit before he gets his act together? One hopes.

When he isn't asleep, though, his bedroom door is open a little, allowing for visitors. Break will claim this is so that Gilbert can get in and out easily with his lone arm if he happens to bring up a tea tray, but he so rarely manages to fool anybody these days. This happened because he loves his kids so much, and underneath his mortification, he doesn't actually want to be alone.]

Edited 2022-08-26 02:45 (UTC)

.. I guess it's my turn on the 'watching over the old man who stupidly overworked himself' shift, huh.

[ Some people might call such an announcement upon entering a room kicking someone while they're down.

Ange would like to instead say it's a convenient way to deal with this situation. Because Ange knows Break wouldn't want to be alone right now. It's one of those things that ties them together, that knowledge, without even having to sense it over any sort of bond. It's just like when she was still stuck as a half-beast, and definitely needed Baltus to cuddle with the entire time to try and keep her at least somewhat in her right mind, rather than allowing to let loneliness driving her further back into the arms of corruption.

Which makes this situation very convenient. Break wouldn't want to be alone in his bedroom, and Ange is genuinely worried enough about him - though the worst thankfully seems to have been evaded - that she wants to be there with him and watch over him.

But why announce such sappy things out loud when both of them already know that it's the core of this situation? It's easier to say this, especially when she does not have the excuse of coming to bring Break some food or tea. Gilbert seems to have that covered pretty well. So instead these are the words Ange falls back on as she wanders into the room, making her way over towards a chair to sit on at Break's bedside. ]

You know, you're starting to make me consider whether I should get a fan for real just to scold you with. [ Maybe that dream!Sheryl's advice was necessary after all.. ]

[The more Ada thinks about it the more she realises that she doesn't actually interact with everyone in the house much and that honestly she should perhaps focus on that when doing looking into probably the oddest stuff one could imagine.

Making sure she had her gloves on to not cause any issues Ada set about doing a few chores while looking to see who was around, soon stopping at the movie room. She could hear someone was in there at least so she was curious enough to take a peek.

And it was someone who she really hadn't interacted with much at all. In her mind she should at least try to change that.]

Hello, what are you watching?

[Break had been in the process of adjusting his blanketfort when Ange walks in, flailing around beneath his covers like a starfish. He goes lumpy and still at the sound of her voice. Baltus is indeed next to him on teddy bear duty, flat on his back with limbs in similarly silly positions. The omen rolls off the bed with a fwump, indulges in a biiiiiiiiiiiig stretch that he absolutely does not need because he is made of shadows and arguably has no spine even when tangible, and scoots over to lay his head adoringly in Ange's lap for the ear scritches he deserves because he is simply the best.

Whatever Break is feeling, it clearly isn't enough to bring Baltus down. Indeed, under his blankets, he is honestly already feeling better for Ange's cruel greeting. When faced with a torrent of emotional fuss, it is pleasant and refreshing to simply be deadpanned at that he is a dumbass.]

...probably that's what the problem is, yes. [His voice emerges, muffled, from the blankets; after a moment, so does most of Break's face as he wraps himself up in a little cocoon which, thank heavens, it's now cool enough for.] I can't remember the last time I went a whole year without a good thwack to the skull. Probably all the cracks that were in it before have healed over, and now when all the sugar I eat goes straight to my brain, which it does, my many clever thoughts have no way to ooze out. And so, the occasional explosion.

From the pressure, you see.

[Somewhere across a cosmic ocean, Reim Lunettes senses this nonsense and feels an intense need to glare at the nearest stupid object he can find.]

-- ah, Lady Ada.

[Honestly, not the kid he expected to wander in to join him. He hasn't really felt a need to reach out to Ada Vessalius any more than she's been inclined to get to know him. Break never had anything to do with her at home, whatever mysterious misfortune befell her early on seems to have inspired Echo to promote herself to her bodyguard, and in the aftermath of Oz's departure, she has Gilbert to lean on. Preoccupied with the drama his other kids have been going through, Break really hasn't seen a need to do much more than check on her in passing from time to time, even if he does sort of consider himself the head of the household by virtue of being the oldest thing in it by decades.

If he were so deep into his "studies" on his own inclination, he might be a little vexed at the sudden interruption. As it is, the feeling of more, more, more churning in the back of his head thanks to the flood curse tells him that he has inherited this girl from Oz -- and from Oscar, arguably, though Break is well aware that his own uncle-ing does not hold a candle to his -- and it is his solemn duty to watch over her in their steads and no one else will be able to do so as well as he.]

It's -- one of the musical princess movies. If you'd care to join me, I could start it over from the beginning. It's only a little ways in.

[It's the snow queen movie, incidentally. On the projection screen, the queen is at her coronation, visibly frightened at the notion that she need undergo it without her gloves.]

[Well lucky for you, Break, your house happens to include an expert journaler and illustrator! This is why she's far more interested in what he's doing on paper than in watching the movie. Well, that and so far, Echo has found that these drawn movies make little sense to her, particularly when animals or inanimate objects are speaking.

She'd probably just let him be Break and move on with her life, but she's been dealing with an odd, lingering sadness ever since Oz left. Sometimes interacting elsewhere makes her feel a little better.

So she enters the room in her usual silent manner and stares at the book from behind him before finally speaking. It's Break, she doesn't expect to surprise him.]

What is that?

[ Ange does find that Baltus' shape and behaviour is often a pretty good indication for Break's particular mood - even though Baltus mostly seems to shift at the extremes, but it's still a good fuss indicator. With the Omen the way he is acting now, all dramatically dog-like, Ange knows that Break will be fine in the end as well.

It's why she can sit here relatively calmly, giving Baltus his well-deserved ear scritches with one hand while she's watching Break use that blanket like a prop in his own personal little play.

A sight that might seem ridiculous to some, given Break's age, but Ange would just like to claim that people who find it ridiculous clearly do not know Break. This is the standard for him. ]

Hmm.

[ She hums, to show she clearly understands his very dramatic plight. Using her hand that's not busy giving Baltus those scritches, Ange reaches out to the part of the blanket that's covering the top of the man's head, patting around there a few times with her hand. Not hard, since this is not meant to be the scolding gesture she was talking about.

No, it's just for effect when she follows it up with-- ]

As expected. There's absolutely nothing up in there.

[ ANGE.. Please do not burn this man down further, girl.

Though her gestures betray more than what she's saying does. Even as Ange speaks on, her hand moves from the top of Break's head over to his forehead, peeking out from the blanket. The girl lets the back of her hand rest against it, like she's checking his temperature, just to make sure he's actually doing as relatively well as he seems to be doing. It's the fuss hidden somewhere deep underneath everything else.

Of course this never goes verbally acknowledged. ]

It's just like I thought, Baltus. We truly can't leave him alone. That's when stuff like this happens, due to that terrible lack of brain activity.

[Break graces her with a magnificent sulk.]

Miss Ange is so mean to me. Such a cruel niece I have.

[...but he acknowledges the familial relationship they've chosen for themselves even as he gripes. He understands that hand on his forehead and sees what she's doing, hiding her genuine concern underneath a silly game of heckling. It's like living in a foreign country and finding someone who speaks your own language, and even as Break will never get over having the kids he's supposed to be taking care of himself taking care of him in turn, it's not that he doesn't appreciate that Ange in particular knows how.

In turn, he answers another question for her before she needs to ask it. She's seen him at his worst, thanks to that memory from last winter. In a direct contrast to the shape he was in back then, Break gives an annoyed huff and hurls himself back down into his pillows, his legs plainly still doing their starfish dance beneath his covers. He may not be up and about the house yet, but he has energy enough to spare for this sort of silliness, and is breathing so well that it won't hurt him to play up his barely-there exasperation.]

I've just said it, I used all my thoughts up last week. When one is terribly cunning, one needs time and many heaping platefuls of macarons to replenish oneself. This is simply how it is for me until this stupid place sees fit to grant me my true form as a spoiled housecat.

Edited (lately not all of the words actually get into the tags) 2022-08-30 15:47 (UTC)

[ He already is like a spoiled housecat as-is, Ange thinks.

She doesn't say it out loud though, whether it's just because it's so obvious that it doesn't need to be said, or maybe she's being just the slightest bit merciful as she just gives Baltus a good ear scritch instead of voicing those words. It's a good thing in this situation anyway - that Break is alright enough to be silly. To say these things, and to roll around across his bed like a toddler.

He's alright already, and he will be fine. It's a relief, especially compared to the worry that instantly snuck underneath Ange's skin, the moment she heard what had happened.

She tears her gaze away from Baltus - that's just where her gaze happened to drift off to while she was thinking - to instead glance back at Break for when she speaks up again. ]

So has Gilbert been feeding you said platefuls of macarons?

[ Don't think she hasn't noticed who's been taking care of this old man. Even though she's mostly seen him bring him tea, hence the question.

Or maybe she's just giving Break the floor to whine a little more in his current state. ]

[She had glanced over briefly as she noticed the scene. To her there were aspects of it she could identify in herself currently. The need to wear gloves being the clearly obvious one, but the meaning behind it being the same and yet different at the same time. For Ada it was more she didn't want to accidently see memories connected to emotions until she got a much better handle on how to keep the two things separate.]

That's fine. I think with what I have seen I think I understand a bit... [She had questions but that would be rude. But as much as Ada was one for all the occult stuff she still was someone who also like things like this and so was interested. But also with that in mind she did have one question.]

When this is done did you want me to clean up in here? [She was taking her self appointed cleaning job since that time seriously.]

He has been feeding me platefuls of not-sweets. I've sent him on a macaron quest. [A hand emerges from the blankets to flap carelessly.] In his present state of fuss, it will do him good to get some fresh air, such as it is around this pla --

[Gilbert has seen this happen before. It was very much the same as the times when he overused the Mad Hatter and its powers, Baltus cuts in smoothly, lifting one ear so Ange can get underneath it. That is why I let him go so far. Now, Gil will always know what to look for, and Xerxes will not be able to hide it as he did at home.

Break's hand goes still, and retreats back into his cocoon.]

Is that what you were playing at. [He grumbles it, but in a resigned sort of way.] How annoying, to have such a manipulative snitch of an omen herding me about like a sheep.

[I inherited that from you, Baltus agrees. His "voice" is serene, and his tail thumps unrepentantly against the floor. It doesn't bother him a bit if his person is vexed at him for all this. His duty is to watch over Xerxes Break, who is historically very bad at watching over himself. Sometimes this means beating Break at his own game, that's all. Good thing Baltus is a reflection of Break's own soul, and thus able to keep up with him so well.]

It is my journal for my darkblood nonsense.

[Sure enough, Break doesn't even startle when Echo speaks up. Nor does he seem at all shy about what he is doing. It is something a little strange for him -- Echo has been here for months now and in all that time the only incidents when Break has bothered to pick up a pen have been to make notes on his knitting patterns or recipes. And, perhaps he will be a little embarrassed at doing nerd things in front of people once the curse wears off. But as Echo will see, observing over his shoulder this way, what he's doing isn't a diary like her own at all. To Break in this moment, the things he's noting down are like a pattern or a recipe. He is going to make his projects work in much the same way that he'd try out something new for dinner.]

There is much to keep track of if I'm to learn to wield it effectively. It will be better to write it all down.

["Write", he says. Presently he is doodling some sort of gothic pumpkin carriage pulled by batcats.]

[ If there's anything the girl has grown used to at this point, it's Baltus throwing Break under the bus. Even if it's often the 'it's-for-your-own-good' bus. It's why Ange doesn't even blink as Baltus chimes in. If anything, it's just a nice reminder that Break has someone to look after him even when no one else is around. ]

Don't call him annoying, he's just doing his best! [ The bias is real...

Don't worry, Break, she loves you too. But it's so much harder to hold a human and give them ear scritches. ]

Besides, aren't you glad you've got so many people looking out for you? [ Even if one of them is a dog.

And most others are his kids. ]

Just like how you pulled me back before, we have to make sure to keep you from going too far as well. You never know in this place, after all. [ It seems like the current thing just made Break overexhaust himself - which also isn't ideal, but it's still workable.

But you never know when this place might decide to switch effects up and start corrupting him for overuse of his powers instead next time around. And then they're in a whole lot of bigger trouble. ]

But that's exactly why it's good to see you in such high spirits. [ Look, if Break is capable of doing blanket gymnastics all over the bed, Ange is more than willing to list that right under 'high spirits.' ]

( Peter feels it before he sees it.

On a level that doesn't quite belong to him, there's a particular sensitivity to energy. Something ancient and wide-eyed is so alert to every fizzle and buzz and pop of respective magic or power, and living in this place means being exposed to so many different types of those things.

Without quite realising he's doing it, Peter's turning his head directly to face where that flicker is coming from. Dark eyes lock on to a familiar person sitting there at one of the tables across the room, and Peter stares at the man for a good few long seconds from where he's standing in line, trying to think past the sparkling lights and alien Otherness that's swirled up within him. For a moment he's confused by his attentiveness to this man, and then he realises. He's met him before, maybe a couple of times — yes, surely, it was more than once. Facts come trickling in slowly. He was blind, and then he wasn't, and he's helped Peter through such strife as invisibility and fashion ineptitude.

Peter finishes in line, ordering something warm and spicy, and he's making his way over when there's a flash of purple, and a solid object suddenly grasped in the man's hands. He'd be afraid of such things, the way he always is, except the demon within him is too curious to drown out, and Peter's only half-himself as he steps up to Break, standing next to his table. Conjuration. Oh, and he's seen that colour before, that purple: it's the man's colour inside, too. It's a powerful colour, bold and majestic and ethereal. )

Hi— Um, sorry to bother you. ( They're Peter's typical shy words, but his eyes are very wide and very intense and he's staring down at Break's hands. Something glitters in his gaze, a curiosity that's almost hungry. The demon's drawn like a moth to flame. )

You just— made that happen?

Oscar had been restless.

The shift from squid back into boy after his month-long 'vacation' in the sea had made readjusting to life on land trickier than anticipated. This included big problems, like finding normal noises a touch too loud for comfort and having an erratic sleep schedule while his heart all but hummed with anticipatory anxiety, as well as little problems that included a certain lack of knowing what to do with his hands. Were he at home, he would be in the garden-- but his home was burned down and thus he had no garden.

Truly, this was one of the real disasters of July. What was he to do without his gardens to tend???

Thus, curiosity drew Oscar towards the movie room when he heard strains of music and smelled snacks. Something was going on, and he was open for anything.

Even if it meant peering at Break's little doodles in the fancy journal he had picked up from gods only knew where.

"Is this a movie marathon or art practice?"

.... unasked was whether or not it was both. Both was good.

No.

[The word comes out all full of sulk and petulance. Break is not glad he has so many people looking out for him. Given that he is himself, it's easy to assume that this is just because it makes his life difficult; after all, the more watchful eyes he has on him at any given time, the less ill-advised sneaking around he can do. Which of course is exactly what Baltus has just seen to. But, there is more to it than that.]

We're all terribly lucky this latest bout of Trench-addling lead me down a road to silliness, instead of making me even more dangerous. And that...it seems that overusing these powers may take me out before any of you kids have to. If things go terribly wrong in the future, then...

[He blinks at her, a touch owlishly.]

Ah, if it suits you, I suppose. Although, I don't intend to leave much mess behind when I'm through here.

[Break is not naturally a tidy person by a long shot, but this has improved significantly in Trench. After all, he still winds up blind from time to time. His omen can serve as his eyes if necessary, but it's honestly less irritating to simply be blind, and when that's the case it's best for the spots in the house that Break frequents to be clear of clutter and with everything he might need in its ordained spot.

A thought crosses his mind.]

...does it please you, to tidy things...?

[Gilbert likes to clean. Perhaps Ada is also a weirdo.]

"I am having nerd training."

Break's tone when he answers is lofty and smug, and he pronounces "nerd" as though it is a helpful foreign word which he has learned to use correctly in a sentence and is very proud of.

This is because that is exactly how he feels about this word. Up to now he has had to use more specific terms, like "bookworm" or "deranged mad scientist". This new word is just so much more applicable to so many different varieties of people who sit at desks on purpose!

"For this, one needs to take notes, isn't that so? Look, I've pens in many colors and everything."

...ah, is that young Peter?

[Break remembers him, of course. He hasn't seen much of him, since Lysithea vanished and so did half her bakery staff, making it impossible to keep the place open. But he remembers. Though he's pretty sure they at least have Ange in common, they simply haven't crossed paths, is all.

Given how rough this past summer has been, he wonders how the boy has been faring. There's something strange about him Break hasn't cottoned on to yet, but even without that, Peter is just so skittish and uncertain about this and that and the other thing. Trench's penchant for nonsense can't be easy for him. He smiles pleasantly and says none of this, giving the knife he's just conjured an expert twirl over his fingers instead.]

Mm. This world isn't so kind to simple swordsmen, so I've been learning a new skill or two, you know?

.. do you want to rely on that?

[ Knowing Break, probably not. He would probably hope he could rely on that, since he's doubtlessly not want anyone else to get involved in it, especially not her or any of the other kids, but surely he's realistic enough to see that things are never quite that predictable in this place.

Or.. well, maybe that's just Ange being a little too pessimistic and paranoid. It wouldn't be the first time. ]

I mean.. Sure, that's what might happen next time too. [ It doesn't seem out of the question, at least. ] But what if it doesn't?

[ She buries her hand a little further into Baltus' smokey fur. It's not like Ange likes thinking about this either, but sometimes they have to get realistic. She can't run away from this thought in Trench of all places, not when it could actually happen at some time. ]

What would you want to happen then..?

[ If he was out of control in a bad way, rather than the way things went down right now - which, in the end, only caused embarrassment and some dumb trouble for Break himself, rather than anything actually bad. ]

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006: So tell me where to put my love

Closed to Qrow: Floodwaters (cw: drowning, PTSD)

Open: Nerd Supplies

Closed to the Household: Bibbiti Bobbiti Boo

Open: Evasive Maneuvering

Closed to Gilbert: Overdoing it

Closed to the Household: A Very Merry Unbirthday

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