o4 . january catchall

[clocktowers]

Who: clocktowers and CR.
What: A bit of drama at Clockhouse.
When: Early January
Where: Throughout Trench.

Content Warnings: Tagged in subject lines as needed.

Ozpin's Vampirism Timeline:
- [Ford] rescue from the Sleeper Farm
- [Qrow] not talking about it
- [Willow, Tara] rancid vibes
- [Zhongli] a fight
- [Willow] stalking
- [Willow] on the groupchat
- [Oscar] checking in
- [Ruby] the intervention pit
- [Ange] on the groupchat
- [Sayo] a wakeup call
- [Shannon] after the wakeup call
- [Faith, Willow] a confrontation
- [Willow] on the groupchat
- [Oz] on the groupchat
- [Qrow] after the confrontation
- [Willow, Ford] discussing options
- [Faith, Qrow] hostile stalking
- [PH house] meeting the inlaws
- [Qrow] an offer
- [Willow] reconciling
- [Ford] at the Red
- [Willow] wolf talk

Comments

[ willow, tara, faith. ]

[clocktowers]

[ The month is still young, and Ozpin is... distracted. He suspects he will continue to be distracted until he gets what he wants. There is a building pressure here, worsening with every day he keeps the secret, every worried glance of Willow's he shrugs away. It's as though the gentle coaxing of Palebloods is toxic to resist, and the effort of it leaves him ever more wound-tight, chronically hungry.

He will not contact Stanford. He will not skulk by the Pines family home. (Except perhaps occasionally, at night, from a reasonable distance.) The latter is a truly foolish idea, because if Stanford latches on to the idea that Ozpin is some sort of threat to his family—

(Well, that would at least draw him out, wouldn't it.)

So. He avoids Willow as surreptitiously as he can, is pleasant but distant in his moments of passing with Tara, and waves away Oscar's disapproving little frowns. He trusts Qrow to leave him be. He makes a keen effort not to linger alone with Ange or with Shannon, who smell of blackberries and wine.

It will pass. Or perhaps he will break, but it will not be here in this house. This is just another facet of Deerington; it will be fine. ]

[frogfear]

[Willow had a faint hope that maybe some of the others were right, and the passing of December would bring Ozpin some relief and a return to normalcy. If anything, it seems to be getting worse. She hasn't tried following him any more at night, preferring to leave that to Ruby. It's not lost her on though that he's been trying to avoid her.

It's not the best time to have someone new over for a visit, she knows this, but Faith is newly arrived in Trench, and Willow does want to help her settle in and acclimate.

She holds open the door to the mansion for Faith to follow her inside, and calls out:]

Hey? Anyone home?

[slayerskiss]

[Faith shuffles a bit nervously outside. She's about to ask Willow if it'd be a better idea to give some prior warning but well, Willow's inviting her in and she's not a vampire, she just hunts the fuckers.

She's looking around the house, a little wideyed at how big it is. It's like a Disney movie...]

How many people live here, anyway...? Looks like you could fit a whole lot of 'em.

[She thought the Summers house was weirdly huge, this is a whole lot bigger.]

very early january, cw: umineko spoilers

[forwantofahorse]

[The morning after Ange makes her post to the groupchat about Ozpin eyeing some of the young ladies of the house suspiciously, Ozpin gets a polite wakeup call.

That is, the mysterious stranger who's stuffed a gun barrel into his mouth as a way to rouse him from his slumber has elected not to shoot immediately and get this over with, and instead talk first, like civilized Sleepers.]

Ozpin, yes?

[Sayo put no small effort into finding a new register to put her voice in, and engineered the shadows of Ozpin's room so that she'd be difficult to make out. It's like the stranger is covered in some magical darkness, making it impossible to discern their features or even place their voice.]

Shhhh. Don't yell. In case you haven't noticed, I am not very practiced with trigger discipline. Who knows what may happen if you jostle my arm too badly.

[Indeed, the stranger's index finger is wrapped around the trigger rather than straight and to its side.]

[clocktowers]

[ This is, genuinely, a first.

Ozpin jolts awake to the press of cold metal and the awareness that something has gone badly wrong. For a moment he flits through horrible possibilities: that this is Deerington, and something has come to keep him awake for a fresh month of sleepless horror; that the keepers of the Sleeper Farm have come back for him; that someone is exacting overzealous revenge for Stanford Pines.

He recoils, tenses, backwards against the green silk sheets in the mansion's master bedroom. He can hear nothing else from the room around them, or the library down below. Just his visitor, armed and intent. When he tries to speak, it just clicks the metal of the gun against his teeth, and he falls silent. ]

[forwantofahorse]

Good. It seems I have your attention.

Then I'll get to the point.

[Sayo puts just an extra ounce of pressure on the gun as it digs into the back of Ozpin's mouth, to make sure he's listening. (She can't lie, it feels good to finally let loose again, especially without any guilt since she's doing this for a just cause. Sorta. She may have also wanted an excuse to let off some steam.)]

Don't think I haven't noticed the looks you have been giving Ange and Shannon. If you so much as glance at them sideways in the same manner again, let alone do something predatory to them...

I won't wake you up next time.

I trust I've made myself clear? Blink once for yes, twice for if you want the back of your skull shattered by high-velocity hot lead.

[ ford; early-mid jan, after returning home. ]

[clocktowers]

[ Ozpin is genuinely pleased to receive the outfit, trimmed in his usual emerald green. Surely Oscar will forgive him setting aside the hand-dyed gloves for a day and enjoying the fresh silk, in the spirit of new beginnings.

He can recall last year's ball. But he doesn't want to think of bonfire smoke and marshmallow margaritas, so he gladly takes up the offered champagne. Perhaps it won't even betray him, here in Trench.

It's a glass or two later— and an hour of watching performances, smiling to friends and acquaintances, clinking waters with Qrow— that he realizes the risk. With most blood types, the hunger is bearable. He has adjusted to the keen awareness of other people, the thrum of delicious power just under the skin. But he still knows the taste of Darkblood, that bloom of blackberries and void, and he craves it like a drowning man craves air. It has been a full month since the fight that stole him less than a mouthful.

He knows that this is a sign of the pressure building. He knows because his gaze catches on Ange again, here, and he has to turn hurriedly away. He knows because he seems to follow Darkbloods without even meaning to; he turns toward their bodies the way flowers turn to light.

So when he finds himself face-to-face with the one Darkblood he hoped not to see, it feels like both a horror and an inevitability. ]

[cryptograms]

[ Let there be no mistake: the Red is not in any way, shape or form Ford's usual scene. Ford doesn't even have a usual scene, unless 'whatever bar happens to be closest to the docks in subarctic fishing towns' counts as a usual scene. Normally it would take a force of nature to get him in here.

But a direct invitation from a Patron Pthumerian is close enough to a 'force of nature' to count. Add in the Darkblood urge to be extremely social and you end up with a nerd normally too self-conscious for parties fearlessly flitting through the crowded theater-slash-nightclub. There are just so many interesting people here, and with just a couple of drinks in him Ford loses any and all doubt or hesitation about things like approaching complete strangers to strike up a conversation.

People he knows, on the other hand? Those are who he'd like to avoid. Unfortunately he's not entirely paying attention to who he's approaching until he gets close enough to actually single someone out, and before he processes that there's someone extremely familiar nearby, Ozpin has already turned around and made eye-contact. Ford draws up short, suddenly fumbling for what to say. After how they met and parted last time he should probably address the situation direction, so after a moment he finally settles on: ]

Ozpin. Uh... hi.

[clocktowers]

[ Stanford says Hi, and Ozpin is utterly adrift. The last they saw each other, he still had Stanford's blood in his teeth. He was wearing the robe of a dead man. The holes punched into his hands were a half-healed mess, and he was barely steady enough to walk under his own power.

Now he wears immaculate soft gloves and has not tasted blood in weeks. He knows how Stanford's would bloom into his mouth, knows the smell of his throat and the way Ford reacts— used to react— when he puts his teeth to it.

The beat hangs far too long. ]

Stanford.

[ He has his cane in one hand, champagne in the other. It's his third, and feels abruptly like a dangerous thing to be holding. ]

I'm... glad to meet under better circumstances.

[ sayo; early jan, following the polite wakeup call ]

[clocktowers]

[ Well. That was thoroughly unpleasant.

So Ozpin does what only seems reasonable, when faced with what he presumes to be the shadowy protector of an anxious and otherwise helpless young girl: he decides to make her feel more at ease. He's been remiss in his welcome. Yes, to be alone in an enclosed space with a Darkblood shall be a challenge, as he does not want to— cannot afford to— look at her with hunger. But he truly does not mean her harm, and he should be able to channel that well enough.

The next time Sayo ventures into the library, Ozpin is there in a far chair by the window, and he calls out before she can backtrack. ]

Good evening, Shannon. I trust you've been settling in well?

[forwantofahorse]

[Sayo freezes like a deer in the headlights while her hand is still extended to return a book on Remnant history when Ozpin calls out to her, and stays frozen even when she realizes he took her threat to heart and isn't staring at her with that disquieting expression. Did he figure it out? Did he tell Ange? She should've been more careful, set up a scapegoat or some impossible trick he couldn't pin on her, otherwise it would be to deduce that it was "Shannon."

No, no. Play it cool. Don't tip your hand until you're sure he's not bluffing. Sayo gulps, not needing to feign her anxiety this time.]

Y- Yes, Ozpin-san. Your, um, your library has actually helped me quite a lot in that regard, so... thank you, [she finishes lamely.] Now, I'll be on my way...? [Sayo edges toward the door, smiling tremulously.]

[clocktowers]

[ Well, the nervousness certainly makes sense, if he has noticed how he has looked at her and does not know him otherwise. He smiles to her, encouraging, and tries to keep the sharp predatory attention from his eyes. ]

As it happens, I was just about to make a pot of hot cocoa. I'd quite like it if you joined me before you go.

[ He spreads a hand to the seat across from his, and the little table with its tray of cups. ]

Or would you prefer tea? I keep both on hand, you know, now that the house has grown.

[ qrow; following the faith confrontation. ]

[clocktowers]

[ Ozpin is irritably sipping a mug of tea under the overhang of a corner shop. It is now lightly snowing, and he is very much pretending to gaze thoughtfully out into the gentle white drifts, instead of being plainly annoyed. Everything is fine. ]

[bolstafir]

[Oz will be treated to the familiar sight of a crow flying toward him before shifting back into a man a few paces from him, because trust Qrow to be dramatic even when the meeting place is literally right across the street.

...He looks -- unsettled? His shoulders are set with unease. He's not sure what's going on, or why Oz didn't tell anybody, and he's upset Willow escalated it like this without even asking anybody, and it's just. Really frustrating. A year and a half ago, this sort of situation would be the kind of stress that had him in the nearest bar, drowning out his anxiety until he couldn't walk home in a straight line.

But instead, here he is, emotions clearly worn on his sleeve for this man whom he had finally rebuilt his way to trusting, brick by painful brick. There's something almost plaintive in his eyes.]

...If you say you've got it under control, I believe you. That's why...why I want to help. It's--the friend I told you about. The one who fights like a Huntsman. His place is out of the way, and if things get worse, or--something goes wrong, we could be there.

[He doesn't say "please" again, but it's written all over his face. He's worried. The last time Oz withdrew from them was that day in the snow. After everything they've been through, Qrow doesn't want to lose him again.]

[clocktowers]

[ Ozpin is silent a long moment. He can hear it in Qrow's voice, see it spelled across his face, how much weight this moment carries.

A year ago, Qrow would have come looking like a thundercloud and yelling by the time he touched the ground. If he were to come at all.

Ozpin takes another sip of his tea, steam haloing his face and fogging his glasses, before he speaks. ]

It is not so bad I fear for anyone's safety. [ This he says slowly, words chosen carefully, held to the scrutiny of Qrow's moonlit blood. ] Not in any immediate sense. I do hesitate to put this friend of yours to inconvenience, Qrow, particularly on my behalf.

[ A beat hangs. It is almost a but. ]

Still. I understand what inconvenience this has already caused for you. If you truly think it the best step, I will follow.

[ His other option, in honesty, is Winter Schnee. She owes him a certain degree of favor, after he welcomed her to town, and he trusts her pragmatism. But he is more interested in soothing Qrow's loyalty.

It's not an apology, but it feels like the next best thing. ]

unfriendly stalking [early to mid january, after the confrontation]

[slayerskiss]

[Faith's been keeping an eye on the resident vampire for a while now, per Willow's request. Though it's not like Willow had to really ask, Faith knows that even letting Ozpin live is... unusual, so she might as well keep a close eye on the motherfucker.

He has company though, company that Faith suspects might have spotted her, if Ozpin hadn't already.

It's not like she's hiding per se. It's more important that Ozpin knows he's being watched more or less around the clock. But if she's being honest with herself... a sizable part of her is eager for a fight.]

[bolstafir]

[Qrow has been a spy entirely too long not to know when he's being tailed. He tries to lose her at first, ducking through crowds and going around in a circle or two where Faith might have expected him to keep walking forward, but eventually it becomes clear she is not going anywhere, and he is out of patience.

Harbinger is drawn, though not extended into full scythe form just yet. Merely pointing in the direction he knows she is.]

I know you're following us. What do you want?

[clocktowers]

[ Ozpin simply sips his tea and follows the path Qrow sets. He may have chosen his spy, but it's been a long time indeed since he tried to live that lifestyle himself; he has always done best in the shadows or in the sunlight, not walking the line between. Better to defer to Qrow's instincts, Qrow's cognizance, Qrow's professional paranoia.

(And perhaps there's something pleasant in relinquishing control and letting Qrow make the calls awhile. It has been a very long day.)

When the tension finally breaks, he stops at Qrow's side and turns to follow the angle of his blade. ]

To keep an eye on me, I assume.

(early to mid January)

[frogfear]

[Ford's notes do wonders to point them in the right direction, and it's a relief when Willow finally has a solution in hand, even if she suspects it's a solution Ozpin will hate.

He has to talk out his issues to keep corruption under control. And therein lies the challenge.

Just don't expect that suppressing any vampiric traits will fundamentally change who he is as a person, Ford had said.

Still, it's Ozpin. He's family. She has to try.

She's not completely sure how far away from the house he is, so she waits until she gets back to sit on the veranda to wait for him before sending the text. 'I made a mistake. I'm so sorry. Can you meet me at home so we can talk?']

[clocktowers]

[ He has been waiting to hear something from her, but he'd not expected it to read like this. For a long and silent moment Ozpin simply gazes down at his Omni; then he exhales a slow breath, closes his eyes, and steels himself for a difficult conversation.

Less difficult than he'd feared, though, from the look of things.

Of course, Willow.

It's a little while before he makes it to the front gates. The walk up the drive is excruciating, because he does not know how many of them he might find on the front step for another frowning intervention.

But all he finds is her.

Ozpin comes to a stop a polite distance away, his cane clicking to a halt. He hovers there, hesitating for a beat, and tips his head in acknowledgement. ]

I think I may owe you an apology of my own, Willow.

[frogfear]

[It's a relief to see him when he comes up the drive, looking entirely like himself. Willow is not entirely sure what she expected - that he would be furious? That his corruption would have somehow gotten worse after being exiled from the house in spite of the best efforts of those around him?

She greets him with a little wave as he approaches, and breaks into a small smile at his words. Not unlike him, she was expecting a particularly difficult conversation. And not unlike him, the apology gives her hope it will be at least a little easier.]

Me first, except -

[She stands up and looks around, brushing the snow from her coat.]

It's kind of cold out here. Come inside?

vampire feeding offer - during pandora house sleepover

[bolstafir]

[Perhaps if Qrow had been aware of the impact of Darkblood specifically on Ozpin's current condition, he would not have recommended this house. Even now, he remains unaware of the man's affinity to that specific blood type, or indeed of the fact that one Ford Pines happens to share it. How unfortunate.

But Qrow did not spend twenty years as Ozpin's eyes not to be observant. Oz may be a masterclass in self-control, able to hide the growing tension in his frame with practiced ease, a smile that at worst may appear tired. But Qrow can see it in the way he seeks out the corners of the rooms, the way he ducks his head to avoid meeting the eyes of the Alices, or even Break as the evening wears on. He can see the way his movements seem to slow and grow more agonized, the way his sentences grow shorter in each successive polite interaction.

Late that night, Qrow catches him on his way to the guest room that Break had set up for him. He looks -- anxious might be the best way to describe it, something plainly on his mind and yet there's hesitation in his eyes. He is not sure how Oz will take the suggestion, but he has to try, right? It feels wrong to watch him suffer when he ought to have plenty of what the older man needs flowing freely within him.]

...Hey, Oz? You got a minute?

[clocktowers]

Of course.

[ Oz catches the hesitation, the anxiety, and has to smother his own frazzled irritation away. It has been a long and trying day, and he would much prefer to be alone. But by the set of Qrow's shoulders, he needs to see to this first.

It might be about him; about this. It might be about Willow, or Oscar, or Xerxes Break. Ozpin simply stands in the hallway, hands on his cane, aware of the guest room door as his longed-for escape route. ]

Late January

[frogfear]

[Sleep doesn't come easy most of the time these days, and more and more, Willow finds herself relying more on dreamwalking for rest. The nights she does sleep, she still leaves her body, and even after all this time, sometimes it's still a foreign, disconnected feeling to be in a body that is not her own. Especially when she can see and smell and hear hers asleep in the bed.

It makes her restless, and then she frets about disturbing Tara, so laying quietly on the floor in their room turns into roaming the halls of the house, or going out to wander around the town.

Tonight, she spots the light under Ozpin's door that suggests she is not the only one who's still awake, and tonight she thinks company might be preferable to being alone. She's quiet as she paws at the frame - she'd rather not wake him if he's just managed to fall asleep with the light still on.]

[clocktowers]

[ He is awake. He so often is, even now: the sunlight doesn't needle at him with the same intensity it did in the worst days, but the glare off the snow is still enough to make his head ache. It drives him indoors to sleep, or to linger calmly in the dark, and once darkness swallows the town he finds himself restless and alive.

The hunger isn't a pressing issue. Not to the degree it has been; he is learning his limits, if only by trial and error and irritable self-deprivation. But the restlessness is building again.

When he hears the paw at his door, he rises with relief to let her in. Company may do him good. ]

Good evening, Willow.

[ Ozpin opens the door for her and speaks softly, warmly. He ought to look faintly rumpled, dressed in his green silk pajamas with his hair down loose to his shoulders, but he still has the air of a man far from sleep. He steps back to wave her in, where a light is on and a book set down at his bedside. ]

I'm just up reading, if you'd like to join me.