11 . clockhouse rebuilding!

[clocktowers]

Who: Those who have offered to help rebuild the Clockhouse, and anyone else who'd like to pitch in!
What: An open mingle log to repair after fires and floods.
When: Throughout September, precise dates not specified.
Where: In Gaze, at the forest's edge.

[ When the weather and chaos dies down, work on the Clockhouse picks up. The building was once an old Deerington mansion, luridly green and eccentric; age faded it into half a ruin, and July's fire did the rest. August's flooding came fast and hard, and now there's very little left to salvage.

The first step has been a damage assessment, with volunteers picking through the structurally unstable ruins, finding singed fiction novels, crisped houseplants, and a weird number of melted grandfather clocks. Demolition goes quickly, while Ozpin stands by and does not even try to control the situation.

Volunteers are needed to design the new structure, carry in materials, and build... and then to decorate and enchant what they've created. The few Sleepers with genuine construction experience provide direction, Ozpin sometimes among them, but things are largely chaotic. A few Sleepers provide snacks and cheerleading.

This is a mingle log. Please feel free to make a toplevel, and comment with your character's contributions below! ]

Comments

Peter Graham (+ 1 demon)

[possessum]

( While it's an uncomfortable thing, so willingly bringing his demon out into the open like this, it's a step Peter's been building to for a while. Over time, he's told more people about his "condition", and while he isn't outright advertising it, he certainly isn't hiding it the way he used to.

Especially because the demon is powerful, and it can be used to help people. This month, that includes helping Peter's friends after they've lost.... almost everything. So the boy's there, but the demon's also very openly there, and you may come across either of them at various times throughout the process.

👑 PETER — can be found mostly doing the grunt work type things: poking through the ruins of the home to try and find anything salvageable for the household, carrying materials, making supply runs, and wandering around asking people if they need help with things. Or maybe he's offering you something to drink; could be time for a little breather. Peter's perpetually a shy, nervous presence, but he won't be hesitating to approach others this time. It feels... It's really nice, doing something to help out. He wants to be here.

...Even if his demon will absolutely go overboard and so at some point you might also come across Peter passed out face-first on the ground because his body and mind can't handle it.

👑 PAIMON — is in his element here, having something Intentional to Assist With. He can be found inbetween lapses of Peter's consciousness: setting piles of rubble on fire after they've been sorted through, moving things around telekinetically, or perhaps, horrifically, crawling on walls or ceilings as new ones are constructed or crumbling ones are brought down, for whatever reason he might be needed somewhere Up High.

But his real contribution here comes in the form of conjuring. And for the djinn-like entity, it's treasures. Namely gold, his associated element. At the direction of his bonded witch, Luna Lovegood, the demon will be conjuring all manner of solid golden items. You might witness or sense it: a presence contained beneath Peter's skin, which starts to glow with a faint gold hue, as though something impossibly bright and loud and ancient lives beneath. A solid gold clock, a chair, a... shoe rack?? He's been living amongst humans for a few years now and learning about what they have in their homes, so really anything they could use, he'll be trying to help provide... Or, he'll be on the hunt for others to work with in this regard, considering he can't overwork his host too much (unfortunately, as mentioned above, Peter will still end up dead in the dirt at times.)

As construction on the house progresses, the demon will also be bringing over some of his crafted items.... Crouched on the front porch or around the side of the house in little designated areas, you might find him placing down little... guys made of clay and sticks. He's very serious about it, lining them up strategically and re-applying googly eyes that might have fallen off. Or maybe you come across him wandering the property and very solemnly putting googly eyes on random surfaces of the home..... This is Gaze, after all. It's important to honour the Theme. )

Passed out

[onekindsoul]

Man down, man down!

[Depending on how conscious Peter is, he might hear the thud of Ruby's boots as she approaches. And... The claws of chickens lightly stepping over him briefly before they cluck and clutter away.

A couple seconds latter there are two hands grabbing his ankles and dragging him across the ground.]

Jeez. How am I going to explain this to Luna?

CRYING....

[possessum]

( Some part of him is aware, though dimly. It's dreamlike, what happens.... The thud of something approaching, the tiny sharp feet that scramble across his back. Something clucks.

Maybe this is Hell.

And maybe he's being drug through it. Drug right into the flames, or whatever awaits. The boy doesn't move at first, complete dead weight that makes a trail in the dirt as Ruby moves him. Is this... is this the Devil who has a hold of him? Paimon's beloved master come to collect him? Peter's so tired he can't even be afraid, at least not at first. He just mumbles, drunkenly— )

Satan...?

THINGS PETER DOES NOT DESERVE

[onekindsoul]

[Ruby keeps on dragging Peter, the chickens have now followed along and are sort of nipping at his fingers as they go along. It's not exactly hell but that's all up to interpretation, really.

She barely catches the mumble and she gives his feet another heave as finds a chair to sit him down on.]

Satan? Have you been hanging out with Ange's weird demon stakes, bud?

[This is what happens when your world doesn't have matching religions.]

[possessum]

( He can feel sharp little nips at the tips of his fingers. Demons, they must be. Poking and prodding at him while he's on the way to some worse torture...

The nightmarish haze continues, thick and heavy. Peter thinks he smells burning (this would actually be a fire going nearby where people are burning some rubble from the house). There's a flash of concern in him — how badly will it hurt? To be cast into Hell's flames — but it's numbed down, he's still too out of it. Even when his limp body is coaxed into a sitting-up position in a chair, his head's lolling, drool trailing out of the side of his mouth.

But he thinks he hears... a familiar name. )

Ange...? ( He mumbles, his mind forming some scenario that maybe Ange's here, too. ) No... let her go... She doesn't deserve this...

Paimon & Duty | Down & Out

[martyrofduty]

Someone going down for the count so hard they are face down in the dirt, not even sitting or out of the way, attracts Duty's attention. Turning the young man over, he recognizes Peter (and Paimon). He picks them up, an arm behind their back and another under their knees.

The place has furniture these days, more furniture, so Duty takes Peter and Paimon to a gilt chaise lounge and lays them down. He fetches some water and a snack and changes tasks to one he can complete here. A word here and there covers things with other people.

When someone stirs, Duty turns back toward the lounge. "Who do we have here?" he asks.

[possessum]

It's an unfortunate side-effect, one that hopefully won't be forever: the host's strength is drained the more the demon uses his abilities. And Peter's still so weakened, even in this place that gives certain stabilities that normal humans lack. The boy can't handle much, physically, emotionally... Paimon is an impossibly loud thing, and the boy wilts when his light shines too brightly.

It's as though Peter's body just shuts off. Everything so suddenly halts, and down he goes. Usually, the demon might drift into a sleep of his own, silencing his own spirit as much as possible so that his vessel can recharge itself. Paimon's half-dazed now, dimly aware of movement... his spirit fluttering softly when he realises Peter's somewhere softer.

Eyelids part gently, dark gaze glossy for a moment as he tries to pill himself out of the heavy lull of his exhausted vessel.

"Not Peter," he answers, for the moment not knowing if this person will even understand what that means. It's simply the honest response, mumbled sleepily.

[martyrofduty]

Duty makes a small noise in recognition. Yes, they've spoken. There's something relatable to the two beings occupying the same body. Given a little more time, Duty hopes to be able to tell at a glance who he's dealing with. One day. Today, he asked.

"Knowledge," Duty says, the name Paimon chose in response to his. A name that is also a title. A name that not everyone in Trench would use, he thinks, even those that know Paimon.

[possessum]

Knowledge.

Something in the demon stirs, something that lives way down deep in him. Where his True Self is: he hasn't quite been able to reach it, but it's there, it waits.

Slowly, Paimon's hazy eyes move to stare at the person's face. He hadn't seen who was on the other end of the feed during that conversation, but there is only one person he's so specifically given the word "Knowledge" to like a name.

"....Duty. You are... here."

[entreats]

[ With time, it's become more and more easy to tell apart Peter and Paimon - even from a distance.

And even without the demon having to be right in the middle of an ominous wall crawl, that is.

It means that Ange instantly knows who the person is, squatting over there and handling all sorts of tiny little trinkets. (Or, well, googly-eyed creatures, she later finds out once she's standing next to him.) It takes away the awkwardness of having to guess as she approaches him, instead walking confidently up to the form until she's right next to where Paimon is crouching, looking down at him. ]

You brought some new little friends?

[ Look at that, she's acting like she's a kindergarten teacher coming to praise one of said local kindergarten kids for their creativity.. Especially the warmth Ange radiates as she speaks gives off that sort of impression, since she just can't help but let her fondness for the demon shine, always feeling less of a need to hide this stuff around them the way she tends to do around humans. ]

[possessum]

( Usually he'd probably be able to sense Ange approaching him — aware of it on some level, as attuned to her energy as he is. But the demon's so focused on what he's doing that he doesn't notice a single thing, not until the young witch is standing beside him and speaks. He looks up, wide-eyed and immediately excited to see her, his own spirit thrumming with a flare of static. )

Golden Witch. ( Paimon's broken out of his fixated spell, looking down to the little creatures he's been so meticulously placing alongside the edge of the house for a moment. ) Yes. I brought... many. Nice things.

( He's proud of them and coaxed by that warm tone she uses, reaching for one that hasn't been set in place yet, holding it up for her to examine if she likes. It's a gesture of trust; he wouldn't hand his projects to just anyone. )

They will watch over your new home. With their eyes. Many eyes.

[entreats]

[ Ange instantly lowers herself to take a better look at it - moving until she's squatting down right besides the other, and then taking the trinket from his hands very, very gently.

She's not sure how sturdy they are, after all, and the last thing Ange would want to do right here and now is accidentally break one of them right in front of Paimon. She might be able to pinpoint the moment his heart would break in two just watching his reaction to that sort of thing - and she can't have that. So Ange is gentle, even once she is actually holding it in her own cupped hands now. ]

I like them. They're cute.

[ .. she's not even lying about that. Sure, they're.. a little crudely made, but they have their own charm.

It helps that Ange likes kids, so she can see these in the same way a parent might view their kid's macaroni painting.

The girl tears her gaze away from the tiny thing, instead looking over at Paimon. ]

Did you give them names? Names hold power, you know.

[possessum]

( Paimon lights up at the compliment to his handiwork, especially pleased that Ange approves of them. By now, he's learned that "cute" is a favourable term, something humans do use to express delight. )

I am pleased that you like them.

( He reaches out for another, one still in need of a second googly eye. It's slow, careful work.... Carefully peeling the filmy back from the eye, he then presses the sticky side firmly to his clay creation and holds it there with his thumb for a few long moments to make sure it secures in place. As he does, he tilts his head towards Ange, listening. )

I have not... I did not know I could.

( There is a power in names, and it's something he's very careful towards. He's only named one other thing on his own: Lu / Na, the two-headed fish that he'd rescued from the pond back in Deerington..... named after Luna, of course... but creating original names... He isn't used to it, and automatically defaults to wanting to come up with something Ange might request specifically, to please her. )

What names do you like...?

peter!!!! and maybe paimon later??? or with??? we shall see

[grice]

[ falco hasn't gone the simple route in helping around. he had already told ange, and he and oscar were going to get a coop set for the chickens as a surprise for ruby. there was much to be done, and he knew he could help, whether it was with odd job tasks, simple go-tos or fetching, falco would do so. when size mattered, he'd press the wumbo button, and out would come the four-legged thing that resembled a flightless bird. a very sharp one. he could carry more than a single person could, he could lift, hold, scale and much more— and falco was generous with his time. when he felt he was going to exhaust himself soon, he would come out.

until there, he seemed okay. a bit tired, and pale, but he was responsive, chatty, and well enough to convince others of the opposite. when drinks are served, he felt his dry lips ask for a sip. water, juice— it didn't matter! it was welcomed. ]

Thanks, Peter.

[ he smiles softly and gratefully up at peter as he takes the cup in his hands. everything should have seemed fine— and it would've been if peter hadn't been facing him for the next three seconds. in an alarming instant, a trailing dribble of puke green stains falco's lips in a rather sudden roll from his nose. both nostrils bleed, and before he could even react to the wetness, it pummels to his shirt. he thinks he's dropped some of his drink and simply laughs, sniffs, tries to wipe—

it keeps dripping. ]

[possessum]

( It's some kind of juice that Peter's reaching for to hand over to the younger boy — nice and sweet, a balm against the thirst that comes from hours of hard work. It's with an accompanying smile of his own, and the prospect of getting a little breather to catch up with Falco for a few moments, when something happens.

By now, he knows that blood doesn't look like blood anymore. Not the kind he's used to. In this place, blood is pale and luminescent, or something that glitters impossibly, or— green, a sickly green.

Peter startles, wide-eyed and with a jolt of his heart. )

Falco— ( His hands have flown up instinctively but they hover there in the air for a moment, frozen as he witnesses more green come dripping down from the boy's nostrils, right down onto his shirt, which is where Peter is now staring in horror. )

You— you're bleeding! ( It's a soft gasp of realisation, hands moving closer, but not touching just yet. )

[grice]

[ falco’s skin takes on the look of parchment paper at this point, paper white against the stark contrast of green and red streaks. he sweats cold, looks absolutely clammy by the time he reacts accordingly. he looks to his hand, his clothes, now stained and horribly painted with the overwhelming smell of flowers— it betrays the danger in his blood, one of which falco holds his hand up and takes a step back. ]

I— I just need to sit, [ he parses, his extended fingers to keep peter where he was trembling in the air. he does what he could, starting to move, tipping his head back and thinking fast on what he could use. it’s a lot this time. a stray stream rolls down his mouth and drips off the curve of his jaw— he swallows what he can, sits himself down, leaves his cup on the ground and waits for it to stop. ] Sorry . . . Peter.

[ the voice is quiet, nasally— he tries to avoid eye contact, because his eyelids are burning. it’s as if he wants to cry, but sucks it back in favor of silence. it’s not what’s happening that quietly frightens him, it’s the sudden prospect that now was the time to say something. he hadn’t planned for this one. it was scary. ]

[possessum]

( Panic has quick-started his heart into overdrive, and Peter's struck by the need to do something — stepping closer, dangerously close, forgetting for a moment the dangers of that type of blood. It's when Falco moves back and keeps his hand up that the older boy realises, another type of horror seeping into the initial one. He shouldn't... touch him, but he— has to do something— )

Towels— ( He says out loud, more to himself than anything, wide-eyed as his head whips around looking for something, anything, to help with. He can smell it so pungent in the air, floral the way Lucille's blood is (was, she's gone now too), and there's a weird lump in his throat. Why is he bleeding so much, is this just like a nosebleed, or— in this place you never know. )

There aren't any napkins or towels in sight, so Peter just grabs the ends of his hoodie and pulls it up over his head as quickly as he can. By the time he's moving back to Falco, the voice that's coming from the younger is on the cusp of tears (Peter can tell, of course he can), and Peter's swallowing hard as he kneels down in front of him to offer up the material. )

Here, use this. It's okay, I have tons. ( He adds, knowing Falco might protest. )

Peter

[schoolingfish]

Luca is also poking through the rubble, picking up anything that might be salvageable when he spots a familiar face. Remembering Peter from that time on the docks, he heads over.

"Hi! I remember you! How are you doing?"

Whether Peter will recognize him as the sea monster he spoke to before or not he doesn't know, but he figures he can explain that if he needs to.

[possessum]

There's a quick look up at the youthful voice, and Peter's smiling on instinct at the younger boy, but there isn't quite recognition. Not at first, at least. The voice does sound a bit familiar, but he can't quite place it, and Peter's painfully used to bumping into people who seem to know him while he's lost on his own memory. It happens too often; he knows he loses himself.

"Hey." His smile warms, even if he doesn't quite remember the boy, and he's looking him over a bit, searching. "Sorry, I have a really bad memory.. We met before?"

[schoolingfish]

"By the docks. We swam together. And then you switched out and the demon swam with me."

He's hoping that will jog his memory enough to put two and two together and realize who Luca is. If not, he might have to be clearer on the subject.

[possessum]

The docks....? Peter pauses for a moment, searching his memory. Maybe he's forgotten some recent journey there, but from what he remembers he hasn't been down there in a good while. It's not a place he typically goes.

But there was a time, some months back. Corruption was drawing things out of him, certain impulses. It was Paimon's presence that led Peter to seek a certain peace out near the water. And... there was someone there, once. Someone not human, but....

"...Wait. Were you..." Peter's staring at Luca, taking him in. "You looked different then... didn't you?" The matter of switching out with Paimon is a concern of its own, but first he has to clarify.

paimon ceiling crawl

[azurestar]

[He was just placing down some flooring, settled in for some proper work that's not just hauling materials now that he can see. The last thing he expected or wanted to see when he was just trying to go about his damn day doing something normal for once, was a guy HORROR MOVIE CRAWLING ON THE WALL AND CEILING.]

AHHHHHH! [He yells and has the presence of mind to not use his inflammatory powers in the wood structure that just burned down. So he's taking that nail gun and firing it at Paimon wildly. He's a sharpshooter so his aim is extremely good, but he's also startled and not used to this 'weapon', so it's possible for the demon to dodge.]

CRYING....

[possessum]

( He could, theoretically, simply use his telekinetic powers to put a row of fresh googly eyes up near the ceiling. But Paimon likes getting up high, and besides, there's nothing quite like peeling off the backs and sticking the eyes on with his fingers. It's a great deal of fun and appeases something deep down in the demon's spirit. So there he is, stuck to the top of the wall near the ceiling, crawling slowly around as he methodically places some googly eyes.

Until he is interrupted by a scream. The demon startles, long limbs suddenly tense and taut like a spider, bent at angles. There isn't time to process much of anything before just as quickly, a weapon is aimed at him...

Paimon hisses like a snake and moves, scrambling fast. Inhumanly fast, scuttling right up onto the ceiling, completely upside down as he scrambles across it. In the process, he drops his packet of googly eyes, perhaps... right on top of Lance's head. )

8D

[azurestar]

[Panic makes things feel a lot more dire than they probably are. And when that horror movie demon possessed guy starts slithering across the ceiling like that, he screams harder and fires nails faster and wilder.

And then the googly eyes get dropped on his head and he screeches at a pitch he didn't realize he could reach. Which is impressive because he's a high tenor as it is. He flails, losing his grip on the gun, and tries to swipe at the eyes to get them off of himself, thinking they're something horrible and evil.

And he starts glowing blue-gold with star energy, his powers activating in response to his emotions. Some of those googly eyes get melted as they touch or get too close to him… sorry Paimon.]

AHHH GET EM OFF GET EM OFF!

[possessum]

( It's extremely fortunate that he manages to skitter as fast as he does, inhumanly so, working his host's body past its human limits. If he didn't... well. Peter might end up severely injured at best and dead at worst...

He's launched himself onto the opposite wall and preparing to scramble across it when that scream sounds... at such a high pitch that it actually makes the demon freeze, nerves going haywire. He's snarling in response, but all of a sudden, something happens that has him temporarily stunned.

The screaming boy... is glowing. Paimon stares, transfixed through his frenzy, aware that the weapon has been dropped. And then there's the smell of scorching plastics.... that immediately rips him back into action.

The demon shrieks and jerks his head upwards, causing a sweep of telekinetic energy to grab hold of the boy and lift him off the ground like an invisible force. He'll just dangle Lance like that a few feet off the ground, hissing and spitting as he starts shaking him.... attempting to shake off the googly eyes that are sticking to him.... some of them gooey and melting.

And he’s hissing in too many voices, multiple sounds and languages tangled all together into a taut rope, tongue clicking loudly. Through it, discernable language does bleed through— )

Release my eyes, wretch!