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Who: Albtraum & You.
What: Settling in, meetin' folks, searching for lost ones, being shadowy.
When: Throughout the month.
Where: Mostly Koz Orphanage, but also around Crenshaw at night.

Paleblood Shenanigans: Depending on the week, they might be without: (1) Sight, (2) Touch, (3) Hearing, (4) Smell. Pls identify which week you're coming across them.
Content Warnings: None yet, will update!

These ides of March, are they so make believe? - Open, Night

During such a quiet evening, as quiet as they get, a sort of large Raven creature flits about from place to place. It seems, indeed, to be seeking something while many others work away throughout the night. It finds the misplaced, the lost, those hiding from the shadows or within. It's croak alerts another creature upon finding one such young one; from the shadows it slips free draped head to toe in black, and ushers them back to the orphanage.

Yet every once in a while such a Raven finds someone not within this category or not entirely at least. They may be young, or they may be not, but they are a sleeper and, for whichever reason, the Raven seemed drawn to them. Drawn enough to lay their many heads and eyes upon this sleeper with a deep croak and, "Hello."

And when you find the fringe - Open, Koz Orphanage

Albtraum, perhaps ironically, does not need to sleep. While a spirit now, tis still a creature of dreams. And even as a Paleblood, it had always been weaker during the waking hours when fewer people fell into its realm. Here was no different, if anything made it all the more true. It affects more than just its abilities, though. The tall and shadowy creature is slower in its movements. Sluggish. Weaker in general. But no less pleasant or polite. For the most part.

During these hours it stays, mostly, to itself. It's Raven sometimes perched upon their shoulders or found around the orphanage engaging with the children in ways that Albtraum often could not. It could be found cleaning, cooking, or sometimes simply lurking in the shadows with watchful eyes. Thinking. Reminiscing, mostly. On times well past.

Any visitor can easily come across them. Perhaps it opened the door for whoever came knocking. Perhaps it's in the kitchen baking or cooking; perhaps its cleaning. Perhaps a visitor found it's Raven instead who--for whatever reason--chose to lead them to some little nook where the shadows have two crystal blue eyes and it squawks, "hello!"

(( HMU @ KITCHEN🍳#7348 if you need anything! ))

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((OOC: I'm forward dating this to the 18th if that's okay because Akko has no hearing until then and that complicates my life pfrglsknfg ))

[ Akko has a home but she is quite young - only 16, though she looks a bit younger and exudes the bubbly energy of a 13 year old most of the time. Perhaps that's why she catches the Omen's attention. Her own Omen, a black and silver koi fish, stops to eye the creature warily - that tells Akko something is up long before she sees the thing.

She's actually making her way home from a late night delivery, gliding lower to the street on her broom when she hears the croaking hello from the shadows. Slowing to a halt, she looks around for the source and blinks when her eyes rest on the only possible culprit in this dark and lonely street. A bird.

OKAY THAT IS NOT A NORMAL BIRD. ]

Eheheh....um...hi there? Are you one of Never Mind's little buddies? [ A quick pat down of her pockets. ] I don't have anything on me to feed you with, sorry.

( Those glowing pupilless eyes all seem to blink at different times; their heads all cocking in different directions and croaning with one another as if deciding how to answer the question. Some flurry of "Never Mind" and "Nope" barked out from their beaks as it walked about. The Raven itself, well. It seemed quite youthful. And perhaps it was. A young omen.

"Nope." Was what the heads all finally settled on as it curiously inspected the girl and Koi fish. "Lost? Lost. Nope." Which was to say, the Raven thought perhaps that she was lost. Rather, they were arguing—however briefly—over the potential. Until they all concluded that no, this was not the case. And maybe one just wanted to say "hello."

The scene was enough, however, to finally draw out to whom this omen belonged. Cloaked in black, the same black cloak many arrive with, and draped further down from the cloak sprawled even more black that crawled along the ground like inky shadows. It seemed to come from nowhere in particular, and its nightmarish cracked white face laid home to wandering blue eyes. Eyes that wandered anywhere but where the body slowly walked toward. It could not hear the commotion ut it could hear its Omen enough to know what was going on.

Yet another affliction this week. ) Tis not lost, dear Raven. ( It speaks in a near-song, a thick accent, a deep but warm and hushed tone. An arm lifts to gesticulate, but the raven decides this is also a good time to return, perching first on the forearm and walking its way up to a shoulder. ) When clearly they head somewhere.

( And to the girl who had been interrupted from their path: ) Please pardon my omen, young one.

Edited (derpy had to add a thing) 2022-09-16 15:02 (UTC)

[ There's a lot to unpack here, but starting with the fact that this is someone's Omen actually answers a lot of questions and lets Akko breathe a sigh of relief. A sigh which catches in her throat when the...uh...person (????????) exits the shadows. Akko plants her feet on the ground, ready to push off hard and fly away from this situation, but something gives her pause.

This is not a hostile being, and that makes her curious. It's voice is deceptively gentle, given its size and appearance. It carries itself in such a friendly, quiet way. So not a beast - maybe an illusion? - but maybe just a weird Sleeper. She cocks her head to the side and looks up at Albtraum curiously. ]

Wow, you're...definitely unique, huh? Even counting other Sleepers, I've never seen someone so, um...shadowy. [ She waves gestures vaguely at the shadows pouring out from the robe. ] Is that why you're out so late? 'Cause the shadows and stuff?

( It. It has to look at her in order to read her lips. If it does, though, she's likely to look back. And that... well, that can cause unfortunate things. The Raven only interprets what they want to and as much as they want to and while Albtraum catches just enough of her lip movement to identify when Akko speaks, its glance darts away from her, back again, away. Catching words like unique, and sleeper, someone so shadowy. Out late.

Albtraum hums, lowering itself to Akko's height. A long black clawed finger taps at its ear. ) Apologies young one, lately I have found I cannot hear.

When you've lived in Trench for long enough, you get used to things. Especially strange things. At this rate a day in Trench would be abnormal if nothing strange was happening.

And yet Ange didn't expect this. Showing up for her usual activity of reading to the kids to entertain them at the orphanage, only to find.. something rather odd answering the door when she knocks on it today.

For a moment she stares, but then Ange decides that yup, probably just another day of strangeness in Trench.

"Hey," she says, hiding absolutely any and all hints of surprise. She's the queen of putting on a pokerface and her usual deadpan tone, like all this is just super normal. "You're the one answering the door today?" Just some.. shadow person answering the door, sure..

Ange just hopes that it's an actual person, and not Trench deciding to plant yet another strange being that's ready to attack them all over the place. It can be hard to tell sometimes.

This week, Albtraum was on greeting duty. In large part due to its inability to smell anything which made cooking and cleaning quite a difficult feat. And so, upon opening the door— "Hi," croaked out one of the heads from it's Omen which had been perched upon one shoulder. The tall creature, well there was plenty odd about it. It's hair flickered and moved almost like ink in water. The ground pooled around its figure did much the same.

But nevertheless, the figure seemed pleasant and, well, suppose one would have to be. What little its learned of Koz so far was that they were just as intolerant of those crossing the innocent as it itself was.

So Albtraum bowed its head and stepped aside to let Ange in after speaking a warm, "Welcome, Frau—" insert name here, please. And a beat after, "I am."

.. huh. It talks, and other than the fact that it seems.. relatively ominous just by appearance, Ange thinks that it does seem like it's an actual person, rather than a sleep paralysis demon brought to life by this place. Especially with that bird right there - that's probably an Omen, isn't it? No one in this place other than fellow Sleepers has one of those, so it confirms her hunch.

It's a good thing to know. Not really for her own safety, but more because she's worried about the safety of the kids here. The idea of something dangerous managing to sneak its way into the orphanage isn't exactly a pleasant one.

They're just brief thoughts shooting through her head before Ange faintly nods her head in acknowledgement of the greeting. "Ange," she says. Name filled in on the blanks right there, even if it's a very.. brief introduction.. But Ange has never been particularly good with manners.

Though she at least does seem to continue with a bit more of an explanation as to why she's here, so that's.. something?

"I come here every now and then to tell the kids stories."

From what little it knows so far of Koz, it knows this: no such creature with ill intentions would last all too long within these walls. It may have unfortunate effects on others, but on a normal day it had ways to navigate such things and reserve them for a select few...ish. Having lost its sense of smell wasn't that hindering.

Albtraum nods, moving aside and closing the door quietly behind her. "Come, come." A beat or two. "Do you require anything?" And while the creature itself, its omen too, looked rather imposing the warm timber of its voice and seemingly meek nature suggested otherwise. But who was really to tell? People were complex things, weren't they?

Edited 2022-09-19 13:23 (UTC)

"No, I should be fine."

But even as Ange is answering that way - rather casually, too - she's still thinking. She's good at keeping up a pokerface while the gears in her mind are grinding away, after all. Mostly because she's trying to figure out what's up with this being.

Ange may be direct, but even she's pretty sure that plainly asking what it is would be.. weird.

Maybe? Probably.

It might be better to take the long route around as she moves further into the building, glancing over at it and its Omen.

"Have you been here for long already?" In Trench, she means, not specifically the orphanage. Though it could be taken either way, really.

Its head bows to acknowledge her insistence. If it knows, or can sense, any such thing about her, it surely doesn't make this known. Instead, in its slow wandering pace, with a quiet hum, Albtraum continues to walk at her side.

"Not long at all," was it's reply. "I came to shore, hm... just earlier this month. It did not take me long to find this place." A few beats, "I suspect however that you have tenure over me?"

Her head dips into a nod.

"I've been here ever since we started washing up here on the shore."

She can't claim to have been the first person here, since obviously there had been people living in this town even before any of them showed up. But Ange does know that she was one of the first squid people to come out of the ocean - because she chose to come here, a decision she made back in that dream.

"Which was.. almost a year ago now," she adds, figuring that probably makes the timespan they're talking about a lot more clear to it. After all, how else would it have any idea how long people had been here already? "So if you have any questions about this place that haven't been answered by the people on the beach already, I don't mind helping out."

Especially since it surely can't be such a bad being, if it is lingering around here and most likely trying to help out the orphaned kids here.

Peter Graham often wanders, and often at night. Lost is a perpetual state for him, and he so frequently forgets who he is, where he's been. His mind is filled with so much cacophonous Other, and sometimes it swallows him up in a flash of white-hot light. Makes him someone (something) else, and sometimes, no one at all.

This month exacerbates that strangeness, affected by the Darkblood within him, making him forget more and more and more. Peter's a ghost that drifts heavy-lidded through the streets, tall and thin and footsteps quiet against cobblestone. He's more man than boy, these days. Almost past his teenagehood, but there's still a youthfulness to him, something that softly shudders within itself.

Perhaps the demon inside him which is so sensitive to energy, senses the thing that watches, for Peter's head is slowly turning that way seconds before it speaks that throaty greeting. Dazed, he's blinking glossily up in its direction, and then suddenly gives a sharp gasp as he's brought into awareness again. Fright sets his heart into motion, pattering like a small animal cornered. He's afraid of what he sees, something birdlike but not, something with too many eyes. The boy's stumbling backwards, an almost comical sight in his state: six feet tall but tensing like a child, hair a tangle of wild curls, eyes rimmed in dark circles like bruises.. wearing a hoodie and pair of pyjama bottoms. He looks like a sleepwalker. Truthfully, he's always haunted by something.

"D-don't hurt me—"

The plea comes out to the Raven-thing, Peter's voice a little hoarse from being yanked from his fugue state so abruptly. Inside him, the demon is not afraid but curious, its glittering black eyes widening up.

Somewhere on the wind came a sound; a hum, a lullaby. And beyond where this Raven sat laid another creature hidden in the shadowy nooks. It could not see with its eyes but for this person in particular—for Peter Graham—it witnessed him with something else. A sense of fear could direct the spirit right to him; could for any such thing young or not, and this one was wrought with it. Though there was something else, there. Something not quite human. What a curious person, if person was indeed what they were. A child; a man; a being of otherness. Difficult to decipher and all the more intriguing.

Their daze, the pattern of footfalls, and misty-minded emotions all painted a sort of picture of times past; of days where bombed buildings held home to orphaned children walking vacant in the night amongst the rubble, crying soundlessly. The war echoed to the left and to the right. Motherless. Fatherless. Starving. Dying. Haunted by the terrors they witnessed but unable to comprehend the full weight of it. Bloodied feet climbing rubble and viscera in search of anything that made sense. It's land knew blood, and pain, and horror—it's land knew these things well before those days, but perhaps it was age, perhaps it was fate—those were the days, it thinks, that changed them.

It wept for them; it ached to bring joy to minds that only knew pain, that couldn't process the ideas of happiness—prayed on by mares, by their own minds. And it tried, it tried, it tried. To make something good out of all that bad. That darkness. Death. Saved by her return and betrayed by it.

"Lost." The Raven concluded just before taking up flight. The Omen seemed to disappear for only a few moments before it returned upon the shoulder of another. The source of said humming.

They were near equal in height, Peter and Albtraum. Just barely above six foot. Strongly build, shadows clinging to it like ink droplets in water and wild black hair shifting, flickering, moving with a mind of its own. It seemed to darken the area it occupied, or was that its attire, or was it attire at all? Perhaps all and none. It stopped just enough into the dim light above—the familiar robe hiding its litany of scars.

"You'll do that to yourself just fine without me, I think." It's speaking voice held a warmth, a tune, but a darkness nonetheless.

(( ooc || OKAY SO this was not the direction I expected but I am super interested to see where it goes, haha. HMU if you need anything! ))

Edited 2022-09-21 17:40 (UTC)

Lost. Did he really hear that word uttered by that frightening, anomalous, feathered thing? Peter's seen so many strange, horrible things over his years in the Dream that was Deerington and then in the waking nightmare that is Trench. Things his mind still can't quite process, things that he still wakes from in the middle of the night as his subconscious visits those horrors, drenched in sweat.

But no matter how many frightening things he sees and feels and visits, Peter can't get used to them. It shakes him just as much every time; he's a broken thing, cracked. His nerves are worn raw, his mind is perpetually too vulnerable. The bird-thing scares him, its uncanny voice, its countless eyes shining. Then it's gone. It's flown away, and Peter exhales sharply with a puff of chilled air (it follows him around, that perpetual chill. Fog like a ghost stays nearby him. In truth it's the demon, frosting him over from the inside out; Peter's always so cold.)

He realises he's heard something humming. In his stupour from the bird-thing, the realisation was background noise, his mind only able to hang onto one horror at a time. But there's something— there's something Else there, and maybe the demon senses it seconds before it makes its appearance. Peter tenses up all over again, but this time with a shudder that racks through his thin frame violently, almost convulsively. His pupils dilate, blowing out and swelling, making the dark browns of his eyes appear liquid-black. He's staring, but he doesn't understand what he's seeing. A person (something in the vague shape of a person, his mind insists). The demon is a second pulse up under his skin, so painfully aware of this darkness approaching.

"What do you want?"

It's not said like a command, not demanding at all — it's shuddering, an animal with its back pressed against the wall. It's the first thing Peter frantically asks, though his mind already thinks it knows the answer. A predator always wants to devour its prey. And he's been prey for as long as he can remember.

[ ooc: This is great!! I'm definitely down to see what happens, whatever happens! ]

Maul eyes the creature with trepidation. Here in Trench, it's hard to tell sometimes if something that looks very much unlike what most people consider to be "normal" means to hurt or harm someone. After all, at this time last year the ravens had been up to most malicious acts involving setting people on a river of blood to face their regrets.

He watches the raven, nodding his head in acknowledgment towards the beast without saying anything or presenting a friendly demeanor.

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[OPEN]

These ides of March, are they so make believe?

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latter prompt, let's go with loss of smell!

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ides of March; loss of sight 👁️

cw: mentions of war and sort of all the stuff that comes with it

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These ides of March