December Catch All

[slightlytaller]

Who: Waver Velvet + Assorted CR, with open prompts! Closed will be added as they are planned.
What: Waver is recovering from drinking the Depresso Espresso and keeps a few promises.
When: Throughout December
Where: Throughout Trench

Content Warnings: Depression, Grief, Death, PTSD, Survivor Trauma, Past Suicidal Ideation, general warnings for a Type Moon canon. More will be added as needed.

Comments

Open | Oceanside

[slightlytaller]

It was only his duties as a Waker that kept Waver in order after awakening to an empty bed with no note and no warning. Although he knew that the odds were stacked against him seeing the Iskandar that he knew again, the possibility of reuniting with his King was non-zero-- as it was in the Earth that he had left behind. This small fact alone kept Waver grounded, even while he kept a watchful eye on the sea.

Coldblood crystals were kept in his pockets, warming his frozen fingers in their thick gloves while he stood on the boardwalk. He was grieving, but not foolish; he also had responsibilities... and miles to go before he could sleep.

Only the usual companions for a loner kept him company-- a hot cup of coffee and a cigarette. The nip of the wind against his ears and his nose at least helped him stay in the moment and not think about the empty apartment that waited for him in Cellar Door. Although he couldn't dare challenge the siren song of Okeanos herself, keeping watch for the few people he called his at least felt like a viable and productive task that he could do.

[martyrofduty]

People being creatures of habit meant they were often easy to find. Waver was among those. He always spent time at the shore. He had responsibilities. Temptation came with them, and when no one washed in from the sea, solitude and siren songs were always there waiting.

Not masking his approach, Duty approached without rush, calm and steady and unstoppable. Only once they walked side by side did he speak. "Busy?" Duty asked.

[slightlytaller]

"...only with the usual,"

Waver commented dryly, momentarily flicking his gaze towards Duty before returning to his watch over the sea. He had been in that general spot for long enough to have small piles of snow on the edges of his cloak. White was, perhaps, the worst color to be wearing when there was a risk of a white out. But he was in his Waker uniform-- and closer inspection revealed the folds of a bright red scarf tucked underneath.

Silently, Waver offered Duty a cigarette. It was a wordless invitation for company from a man that had fallen deep into his Lordly guise and believed that any show of the gaps in his armor could mean death.

For now, he still had a job and all of the responsibilities that came with it.

[martyrofduty]

Duty accepted the cigarette and smoked it. With the immediate shore frozen over, the movement of water was muffled beneath it and farther out. No signs of desperate squid broke through the ice or otherwise revealed themselves. Acting as a Waker required much waiting.

When the cigarette neared its end, Duty said, "What connection do you feel with your patron?"

Simple enough.

[slightlytaller]

--That was a helluva way to get his attention.

Waver canted his head towards the man, looking at him with an obviously perplexed expression painting his face. He supposed some things were obvious. A certain crystal was worn around his neck daily, discreetly tucked underneath his collar but noticeable when he worked and moved, after all. Tugging at that scarf to readjust it against the frigid wind, he finally answered.

"He's lonely," Waver said, musing. "I only recently met him, but I do understand loneliness. Why do you ask?"

[martyrofduty]

Not the question Waver expected. That shock to the system pleased Duty. It was good for the man. Life's still surprising, even after the worst has happened.

No kidding Waver understands loneliness. He's only had brief, if intense, times together with his partner, with his king. Duty doesn't know what date determined Waver's patron—birthday or something else. "There's a connection," Duty answers, "Patron-Sleeper."

"Magical."

[slightlytaller]

Having the same blow delivered three times over the span of a decade was enough to rattle his spine and buckle his knees, but the stresses of dodging curses, poisons, and assassination attempts over the years had combined with his vileblood and caused his nerves to fray.

That-- but he had his orders as well. Live, witness, and tell the story...

Sometimes it felt like a curse. Others, it felt like a purpose. But, that day in the snow, it only felt like a mystery.

Waver regarded Duty, brows knit in curiosity.

"Perhaps so. Even when Gods walked the Earth, there was no way humanity could fully divine their reasons."

[martyrofduty]

"I'm not asking for that," Duty says. Yes, he wants to understand the Pthumerians, so much as it is possible. Yes, he believes it is possible to a greater degree than many others. If he can relate to a Resurrection Beast, how much harder can a Pthumerian be?

"Study something neither Patrons nor Sleepers understand," Duty says slowly, seriously, staring Waver firmly in the eyes, "Their literal magical connection.

"Pthmerians are sick. Their Sleepers are sick. Trench is sick."

If no one understands it, no one can fix it, except for blind luck. In Duty's experience, that cannot be counted on.

Open | The Entertainment Feed

[slightlytaller]

...There was a man in the back, hogging the big screens to play the single player strategy games that had been loaned to Rin's collection.

Lord El Melloi II, also known as Waver Velvet-- or perhaps 'Mackenzie' exuded a cold, irritable air to the corner that he had cloistered himself in. The furrow between his brows and the deep frown on his face both dared innocent strangers to approach him while he smashed the control buttons with astonishing speed to get through the cut scenes that kept interrupting the flow of the battle that was playing out on screen. His long hair was pulled back; his glasses were tossed aside, and it was only out of respect that he didn't smoke in the facility that Rin had put together with astonishing speed.

'Watching media' had it's charm, but it wasn't the same as playing media. Waver, frustrated with being unable to skip the cutscene, tossed the controller aside and leaned back with a sullen look painting his angular features.

"...Me too, bird boy." He muttered, watching the winged blond flounce off screen. "Me too."

Open | Wildcard!

[slightlytaller]

Waver will be found anywhere and everywhere around town in a bid to avoid going home to an empty apartment. Highlights include The Archives, the various Combat Schools that were run by people he was starting to know or frequented by people he knew, and -- in a foolish bid-- The Roost, even though he knew he wouldn't succeed in getting himself drunk thanks to his Vileblood.

Anyone meeting him might find his state less polished than normal. Or, he might even have fallen asleep in a foolish place that looked like it was safe indoors.

[icanhearscreams]

Jun works at the Roost, so he's a little surprised to see Waver walking in and trying to get himself drunk. He counts the glasses and sighs. Really? Why are adults like this?

"Hey. I think you've had enough." He taps the professor on the shoulder and crosses his arms, ignoring the pull from his stitches. "Besides, we only have so much alcohol."

[slightlytaller]

Was it really so surprising, when Jun had recently called him out for his depressed tendencies? Waver looked up from his whiskey and worn little copy of the Illiad that he was hovering over, his eyes dark and wearied from the burdens of life.

"...Ordinarily I'm a cheap date," He muttered, and tucked a makeshift bookmark in between the pages while he gently closed the tome. It wasn't Iskandar's copy, but keeping any copy on hand felt... right.

"Jun." Waver commented. "I didn't realize you worked here. Aren't you a little young...?"

[icanhearscreams]

"I've seen cheaper." He replied without a hint of irony. Working here... he really had.

The question got a snort from him. "I live with the owner of the place. I'm not really touching the alcohol at all... just doing smaller tasks around the place. ... I didn't want him to go without any repayment for taking me in."

Everything was an exchange. Whether it was work or relationships or lives, everything had a certain calculable value - mostly. Being here had thrown that into chaos, but... he still didn't like getting things without repayment.

[slightlytaller]

"Repaying debts is very good and all. It shows that you're quite the responsible lad. But..."

He tapped his long fingers on the table, ignoring how the flesh that stretched across his hands seemed a little more translucent than what was normal for someone that spent most of their time holed up in crowded libraries. It was the corruption starting to fizzle at his nerves, Waver knew.

The pain this storm of grief keened through him like the waves crashing on shore. He would work through it, but for the moment he just needed to sit with the feelings.

"You're young, yet." Waver said finally, as if that wasn't obvious.

"Don't forget to let yourself be a kid."

[icanhearscreams]

"No shit, Sherlock." Jun deadpanned, collecting up some of the glasses and then peeking over his own at the professor. "You're deflecting."

He let the man sit with that for a few moments while he returned the glasses to the bar and then walked back to the table, taking out a rag to clean up any dirty spots. "I'm doing what I can to enjoy things here, not that there's a ton of activities to be done that don't involve monsters or the risk of them.

"You're not a regular, and you don't seem like the type to drink your problems away normally. So what's actually going on here?" It's not like it's busy right now, so it's not like his dirty laundry is going to get aired in front of everyone.

[slightlytaller]

It was a cold day in hell.

It had to be, because this was the second time in a month that he had been schooled by the same painfully insightful thirteen year old. Waver knew he had to expect it, but it still stung.

He nursed at his whiskey with a sulky look on his face. When Jun arrived, he decided it was time to relent.

"You're not wrong." He said in careful, measured tones. "I prefer not to make an embarrassment of myself in public, but I'm not opposed to liquor or wine every now and again. My Vileblood makes it hard to enjoy the drink unless I'm actually trying to make myself sick, so most of the time it's not worth it."

He sighed.

"I'm sorry. The most important person in my life went back to the sea recently. There was no note or warning. He was just... gone. This isn't the first time I've been left behind by him."

[icanhearscreams]

Jun waited expectantly for an answer, and... wasn't surprised at the one he got. Adults were always doing this - trying to find solutions to their problems at the bottom of a glass or the end of a cigarette. It wasn't like the problem would be any better once they were done, and impairing their senses just to try to figure something out was never going to be a good solution.

He tried to think of what to say that would be comforting, but... well. Waver didn't seem to be the type soothed by platitudes, and Jun wasn't one to give them. "He could come back." That was about as soft as he could get. "But even if he doesn't, do you think he'd want to see you moping like this? If one of the most important people in my life suddenly disappeared, I wouldn't -"

The boy paused. He'd thought Falco had abandoned him, even though he was comatose for several days. He set his jaw for a moment and took a breath. Getting frustrated wouldn't help anyone here. He counted to ten in his head - quickly, but enough time for a pause. He exhaled sharply and looked down. "... I wouldn't take it well either. But I know he'd want me to keep living on and not mourn him. I've seen enough mourning. It doesn't really help much, in the end - just makes your grief feel worse. The people I've seen deal with grief the best find a way to honor those they've lost and build something for the future."

He looked up at Waver again, meeting his gaze. "So? What are you going to build?"

Closed | For Bakugou | Action...?

[slightlytaller]

[There is a little cat at the door.

Do not ask the How nor the Whom for circumstances like this. The most important question to ask in all matters that contained a mystery was the Why. With her glossy black fur and bright green eyes, it was clear that she was well take care of. However, the intelligence with which she had climbed up to reach the doorbell so she could swat at it repeatedly with her little paw indicated an intelligence that was far greater than that of a mere pet.

Whoever answered the door would be greeted with delicate little kitty bow and wide eyes that seemed almost anxious-- as if she desperately wanted to do the right thing, but she wasn't sure what it was.

On prompting, she would squeak out in a nervous, feminine voice:]

"I have a message for Uraraka Ochako-san. The Professor would like to follow up on a previous conversation and would like to coordinate with her about his lesson plans."

[detonating]

[Honestly, it's not all that weird or surprising to open his door to what he assumes is an omen. Certainly isn't the first time, and it ain't gonna be the last either.

What has the explosive blond looking grumpy and unimpressed is that it's fucking cold outside. He's already done all that he needed to do outside of the warm house that he shares with Ochako (not even knee high snow will stop him from completing his daily workout that includes a run around Crenshaw!), and holding open the door is going to let said heat out. As someone who loathes the cold with every fiber of his being, this is unacceptable and it results in her getting snapped at.]

Couldn't fucking send a text like a normal person?! She ain't here!

[He's about to just shut the door in the cat's face and even starts to, but in the two seconds it takes to run her words through his head again, he's... pausing mid-swing. Katsuki scowls hard and drops down into a crouch to get a little more eye level. They don't always talk about everything and that's fine, they don't have to be entirely in each other's business all the damn time, but that's just enough to grab his curiosity and have him asking. Professor. Coordinate. She fucking teaching a class or some shit???] The hell d'you mean by lesson plans?

[slightlytaller]

[The little black cat backed away, as if any added distance would allow a measure of safety from the Loud Teenager. The Professor hadn't prepared her for this, and her little omen heart started to pitter patter like a kitten as she began to fret.]

'The Professor and Uraraka Ochako-chan are teaming up to teach the hero that calls himself Shouto how to cook. The Professor has a few ideas, but soba noodles aren't common in his home in the city called London on Earth. He wanted to show Shouto how to make a meal that is familiar. Not...

"Not Beans and Toast," he said.'

]She bashfully looked away. Most of the time The Professor did text, but it was mishaps with the Omni that brought him and Urarak[ together at all.

Gray said none of this. She was doing her best.]

[detonating]

[............

Is she fucking serious?! Fuck's sake. This is so stupid, on so many levels and for so many goddamn reasons. Katsuki doesn't even where to start.

Well, on second thought... he actually does. There's a gust of frigid wind that serves as a stark reminder that he needs to preserve his precious heat.]

Dammit! You got two seconds to get your ass inside, Furball, or you can tell that asshole to message her and just piss off! [Not super inviting when he practically spits that at her. Katsuki pushes back to standing and stares down at her expectantly, foot tapping the hard wood floor with a very obvious air of impatience.

Normally he would brush this shit off as 'not his business' and just slam the door in her face, but he's got questions about and maybe for this mysterious "Professor". That's his friend and his girlfriend that he's getting involved with, and it's pretty damn suspicious that he's touting the title of a teacher, but can't look up and follow a simple recipe. Katsuki doesn't trust easily, not here in Trench, or anywhere for that matter, and especially not when it involves his people. Whether he gets information from the omen, the dude himself or Ochako is entirely up to the cat he's glowering at, but he's gonna be asking some questions.]

[slightlytaller]

[With a startled squeak, Gray scurried inside. Alone, she had no way out relaying any of her status to him, but maybe she could learn something.

Besides, Gray was the one calling him Professor-- because the multitude of titles and names were confusing, but Professor was at least more approachable to strangers than Lord. ]

[detonating]

[The door gets shut behind her--hard, and Katsuki just shoves his hands into his pockets and starts towards the living area of their house. That's where the fireplace is, and he needs to add some more wood to it. He was on his way to doing that before the unwelcome interruption.]

So who the fuck is this guy, exactly?

[Katsuki's tone says clearly that he's not in the mood to get any kind of run around about this. He means it when he says exactly.]

[slightlytaller]

[The little cat ducked under the nearest piece of furniture, just in case the boy decided it was a good idea to do something that was as loud and mean as his voice. Gray's ears were pressed flat against her head while she peered up at him. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she answered:]

"He is the head of the Modern Magecraft department at a school he calls The Clock Tower, but he made friends with Shouto over glowsticks and the both of them having an affinity for cats.

Right now, the Professor is grieving the fact that his Most Important Person went back into the sea, and he wishes to make himself useful. That means trying to teach Shouto how to cook, so people don't need to throw away his jam anymore."

[detonating]

[Katsuki's back is to Gray, so he's oblivious to her intimidated body language. Not that he would give a shit anyway. The teen just crouches in front of the fire he'd got going, reaching out for one of the small logs stacked in front of it. His answer, more of a commentary than anything, comes as he drops it into the embers.]

Waste of time. That half and half bastard can't even cut chives properly. [The blond blows on the fire lightly to encourage it, and then drops to actually sit. Glancing over his shoulder over to the cat, his frown is as tight as ever.] So what, he's asking Uraraka to show him how to make fucking soba? He incapable of looking it up and following a damn recipe?

[Suspicious as FUCK. Soba is so easy to make, a ten year old could do it.]