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

[frogfear]

[Willow accepts the invitation and hops on the bed to lay down beside him. It feels familiar, but this time there's no compulsion from the dream to cuddle in close to someone she barely knows, and no urging from Puck to be protective in light of the injuries sustained in a completely different, far away world.

This is just being able to quietly enjoy each other's company.

She raises her head when he offers to read out loud and nods. It's impossible for her to read like this - paws are inconvenient for a lot of things, including turning pages of a favored book without tearing them.

Curled up with an interesting book and a good friend feels like a far better way to spend the evening than roaming the streets of Trench.]

[clocktowers]

[ She curls up, and he settles in beside her atop the covers, near enough that they are not quite touching; the bed is too big for just him. (But he has slept in large and empty beds for a long time now. He tells himself it's a familiar luxury.)

Ozpin reclines against the pillows, thumbs a few pages back to find the beginning of the chapter, and begins. ]

This story begins with a mischievous god and an ambitious huntress...

[ It's about Dorothea, and the winter's feud between blood types under her sway. He is an experienced storyteller, glad for an audience, and the rise and fall of his voice comes low and steady in the darkness. The pages rustle when he turns them. The fluffy slope of Willow's back and shoulders rises and falls as she breathes. It is peaceful.

The chapter ends, and he pauses there, his fingers slid between the pages of the book. ]

With such historic enmity between Vilebloods and Darkbloods, you can see how I thought myself caught up in something... cyclical.

[ His tone is still that warm, thoughtful cadence of a man reflecting on a story, but something in his expression has gone faraway. ]

And I do suppose that could be an element of my dilemma. Even if, now, we know there are darker issues at the root.

[frogfear]

[Willow lays beside him with her head resting on her paws, ears flicked forward as she listens to the story with interest. She's already familiar with it from her own research in December when everyone seemed so at odds with each other, and she found even her own patience was lacking. Still, it's a far different experience removed from the strife that had much of the town going as far as trying to trap each other much like the huntress from the tale, and in spite of the subject, it's easy to relax and focus on Ozpin's voice in the quiet of the room.

She lifts her head to watch him as he finishes the tale and explains where his thoughts at the time were coming from, and she reaches out to set a paw on his arm, her gaze warm. It's fine. They've got it figured out now, at least for the most part. She's still on the hunt for other methods to help him cope with his new condition - techniques to keep corruption at bay, or reduce it when it threatens to spike, and alternatives to help satisfy his craving for blood. It's a far more complex subject when there's the chance of it striking each individual Vileblood differently, and she still suspects a lot of it will have to come down to trial and error.

The connection between Vilebloods and Darkbloods as in the story strikes as interesting, though, and she suspects he likely is on the mark when it comes to his situation. It might be another track worth exploring in her research.]

[clocktowers]

[ She rests a paw on his arm, and it is so charming a translation from her human expressions of solidarity— a quiet hand, that gentle little smile— that it draws him back up from the depths of reflection. It breaks his smile warmer. He sets a hand upon her paw, and looks down at his book, so that he need not look at her directly.

She has asked him to be more open. To share his own stories more freely. They all have, of course, but she has asked it with the dire intensity of a warning.

He says, slow and careful: ]

Still, I confess I ought to have paid closer attention to the curse's origins. November was a difficult month for us all. The Sleeper Farm took countless lives, and marked countless more... I suspect all who passed through there bear some degree of scar.

But I suppose it left more lasting damage upon some than others.

[frogfear]

[November had indeed been a difficult month for all of them it seems, between the Sleeper Farm and the attacks from the zealots in the streets. Willow and Tara had both had their own encounters there as well, but neither talk much about it, and Willow hasn't connected it with this latest bout of restlessness, or difficulty sleeping. The ability to get a decent night's sleep in Trench seems to come and go anyway.

She watches Ozpin as he speaks, and her gaze is warm and understanding. He's not wrong about them all being scarred by the horrors of the Sleeper Farm, and of course she recognizes it's entirely expected that it could have lasting effects on them all.]

[clocktowers]

[ Ozpin looks to the wolf at his side, then drops his attention to his hands. He is without his gloves, which is a rarity since arriving in Trench. In the light of his bedside lamp, it is difficult to make out the faint mottled scarring across his hands, pocked with tentacle sucker-marks. It is easier to make out the newer, more distinct scars he had not arrived with. In each palm, and the back of each hand, is a messy knot of scarring— as though something stabbed straight through.

He strokes a thumb almost absently across one of these palm-marks, and exhales a breath. ]

We'd had such a gentle arrival, you see. The lull before a storm. That first true act of violence came as more surprise than it ought to.

[frogfear]

[Willow follows his gaze to his scarred hands, as she considers his words. She hadn't really thought of their arrival as gentle, between learning she turns into a wolf when she sleeps now, her lost magic, and her exposure to the horrible river that she still suspects was Never Mind's doing, but she supposes much of that had more to do with her rather than Trench itself, and it was still certainly a far cry from the level of sheer, unadulterated violence November wrought.

All of the Sleepers who had experienced Deerington seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief when October passed with an unexpected quiet. Even she did without experiencing first hand the horrors of the previous year. It's understandable that they were all lulled into a false sense of security that life in Trench would be kinder to them. It's hard not to worry already about a resurgence next year.

There's little she can do to relieve the trauma of November, or of dream that came before, but at least she can continue to show that she will support him as much as she can, and as much as he'll allow. She looks up at him for a moment and shifts so she can lay her head across his hand.]

[clocktowers]

[ She lays the weight of her head upon his hand, and Ozpin blinks down at her. Something startled, then something warm, dawns across his face. He looks away, back to the safety of his book, but there is a little smile in the corner of his mouth now.

He exhales a breath as though releasing some tension, and nods. ]

But that's enough of dwelling, I suppose. Better to be here, together, and glad of that opportunity.

Let's turn to the next chapter.