o1 . clockhouse move-in!

[clocktowers]

Who: clocktowers and housemates, plus any curious passersby.
What: A move-in log! Go ahead and make your own toplevels.
When: Early September.
Where: Gaze

Content Warnings: Tagged in subject lines as needed.

In Gaze, not far from the grand spire of Never Mind's clocktower, Ozpin has found his Deerington home. The manor looks as though it has not seen life in decades or more: the once-vibrant paint has peeled to a mucky grey, the dented gate has turned a decaying green, and the whole property is a jungle of thorny weeds. The front of the mansion has been swallowed by the tangled vines of morning glories, flowers dotting the house blue and red in clusters like wounds.

The windows are boarded, just as they'd been in the mists of May. The third-floor tower is a burned wreck from a battle that feels, by now, a full lifetime ago. Every window is shattered; every space is thick with cobwebs and filmy sea salt.

Ozpin stands at the gate and gazes up the drive. He looks a mess: his hair still stuck up with sea salt, his glasses missing, wearing only the simple dark robe Ruby slung over his shoulders on the beach. He doesn't even have his cane; he doesn't even have his Aura.

But there is something beautifully simple in that. It feels like reincarnation without the dread of taking a host; it feels new.

Comments

[clocktowers]

(1) blood test.

[ Ozpin stands before his shattered windows and peeling paint, and badly misses Glynda.

By now, he has regained his elaborate green coat and filigreed cane... but he has not regained full control of magic. That well of power feels different, in a way even Deerington had not imposed.

He is supposed to be scraping ruined paint from the walls of his mansion, or prying shards of glass free of the frames, or otherwise doing something mundane and useful. Instead, he has become distracted: you might catch him inspecting his own hands with a gentle frown. You might catch the moment he flips the cane in a neat little twirl and catches it near the base, where it has been modified with a long sliver of sharpened antler. He takes that cutting edge to his palm and slices a thin, clean cut.

He bleeds green.

If you are remotely nearby, you might smell the sudden and dizzying bloom of flowers. There is something uncannily familiar about the smell: it's not unlike the scent of Cynthia's garden, on that beach they left behind. Anyone close enough to catch the scent might be hit with spotting vision and vertigo; hope you weren't doing anything important! ]

(2) indoor gardening.

[ The blue morning glories have come back to haunt him again.

Ozpin stands in his library, which is an absolute ruin: the books are unsalvageable, the clocks all stopped. The vast picture windows are still boarded from May's chaos of mist and monsters, and half the shelves that belong in this room have been stripped for wood. None of these dilemmas bother him terribly.

What bothers him is the riot of blue flowers choking absolutely everything, spilling through the broken windows, and drenching the front of the house as well. From the next floor up, a competing breed of red flowers has spread and is fighting for space. The walls are flowers; the floor is flowers; bits of the ceiling are flowers.

To whoever dares poke their head into this room, he hands a bladed cane. Congratulations, you're here now. ]

Would you like to join me in some gardening?

(3) wildcard.

[ Ozpin will approach anyone on the property to see what they're up to, no matter how quiet or chaotic it seems to be. ]

2

[justoscar]

[Something in the house didn't sit right with Oscar. Beyond the overgrowth of flowers and the dilapidated remains of the burnt out tower, the absence of a multitude of ticking clocks created a haunting silence within the previously lively home-- and it was the silence in the corners and overgrown hallways that twisted his stomach into knots.

Oscar had only entered the room because he heard the sounds of movement within. He was loathe to be alone, even with his equipment found and Shortcake following him like a menacing shadow as soon as he left the building. Spotting Oz, he grinned-- and immediately pulled back when the cane was thrust toward him.

Tipping the cane downward with his fingers, he cast Oz a wry look. ]

I dunno... I kinda like the look.

[clocktowers]

[ Ozpin turns and raises a brow at him. They are surrounded by, in his opinion, an utterly unnecessary jungle. ]

It's an impressive degree of growth in these conditions, I will grant. But I am not sure indoors is the place for a garden.

[justoscar]

[Sighing, Oscar acquiesced to reason and accepted the tool from Ozpin. The jungle indoors was unnecessary.]

Well, yeah. I guess... [He trailed.] It just seems to fit the whole 'Hermit Wizard' vibe you like to give sometimes. Makes the place look a little mysterious. And, it adds some color.

Word on the network is also that the soil here is not good. It's been polluted, or something, so it seems kind of a shame to disturb something that's growing this nicely in rough conditions.

[clocktowers]

[ Oscar... makes a few valid points, here. Ozpin stays his hand for a moment to consider. ]

The landscape does seem... a bit drab, around these parts. [ This is, in his opinion, a very entertaining understatement. ] It does seem a shame to do away with natural color. But I am not sure we won't have flower rats and the like coming in among them, should this place prove to be anything like Deerington.

[justoscar]

These are gifts from people you know, right?

[Unspoken was the name 'Ironwood', who had not yet arrived in what was a dubious boon. The General has caused them both more than enough headaches, but Oscar hated to think about what kind of man Ironwood would be if he arrived once again from a point further down the timeline.

After everything with Penny, there was no saving him.

Oscar set to work detaching some of the tangle of blue flowers, careful to keep them intact.]

If they were going to have rats, wouldn't we have seen them by now?

[clocktowers]

[ It's a very loudly unspoken name, and Ozpin sighs. ]

Unasked-for gifts, on two counts. [ The red are a followup jab from Qrow. ] But ultimately harmless, I suppose. I would argue that it will not be terribly good for the books, but I seem to be freshly out of books to look after, and this is hardly the greatest threat this library has faced.

Very well. Let's hear your plan for restoring this wing.

[justoscar]

[Bluntly:]

I hadn't thought about it.

[Shifting the cutting tool from hand to hand, Oscar peered around the room with a different-- more studious-- eye.]

If we can find where the source of all this is, we can probably prune it and train it to grow where we want it to go instead of just taking over... kinda like you tended to let those two do when it didn't pertain to your plans.

[Oscar cast Oz a look. Yes, he knew things in the way that only a Wizard Host could know.]

1

[frogfear]

[Willow has been trying to help with the clean up. It's unclear just how long Clockhouse laid abandoned, but it's obviously been an extremely long time. She's been trying not to think too hard about how long they all must have spent as squid for it to get to this point.

She's helping to scrape the peeling paint away from the walls when she realizes Ozpin's fallen completely silent. She turns just in time to see him cut his own palm with the cane.]

What are you-

[The scent of flowers hits all at once, causing the room to spin. The scraper drops, and she braces her hand against the wall to catch her balance.]

Whoa...

[She shakes her head and blinks repeatedly, trying to clear away the feeling, and the spots dotting her vision.]

What is that?

[clocktowers]

[ He looks up, genuinely surprised, as she stumbles. Ozpin steps forward, a line of green still pooled in his palm; it at least doesn't smell as intensely now that that first bloom of bloodletting has died off. ]

Are you alright, Willow?

[frogfear]

Yeah - yeah, I'm okay. Just got a little dizzy there for a second.

[A little dizzy is an understatement, but she doesn't want him to worry. The worst of it seems to be fading, but she's not absolutely confident she could walk a straight line right now. Her focus is on the green blood in his hand and she peers at it curiously.]

You bleed green now? That's kind of weird. Not that I'm judging, or anything, but I'm pretty sure that's new.

[clocktowers]

[ He stills beneath this comment, as though uncomfortably caught out. But there is no hiding it, so he splays his palm for her inspection. It's a vibrant green at the edges, bright as his Aura, muddied by rust-brown where it beads up. ]

Entirely new, yes. I am given to understand that I am not the only one; there's been talk of 'blood types' since my arrival. I'd not realized the differences were so... striking.

[frogfear]

[Willow takes his hand gently so she can take a closer look.]

Huh. Yeah, I heard something about that - I haven't really looked into it yet, though. I guess that explains the flower smell too, it's got to be your blood.

[She releases his hand and looks down at her own. She's curious about her own blood type too, but she's not sure she really wants to test it out here and now.]

The flower smell was really strong at first - I think that's what brought on the dizziness.

[clocktowers]

[ He lets her: Ozpin holds carefully still as green-shading-red fills the creases of his palm, stark against the pale skin. ]

I caught the scent of flowers, but not the dizziness.

[ He follows her faze to her own hand, frowning thoughtfully as he draws out a handkerchief to press to his own. ]

I suppose the differences must reach further than we'd thought.

[frogfear]

Yeah, it sure looks that way. I was going to see about doing some research anyway once we get things cleaned up here. I think blood types just became a bit more of a priority.

[She falls quiet for a moment, apparently lost in thought, then holds out her hand.]

Okay. I guess it makes sense to check mine too. If anything weird happens when I bleed, it's probably better to find that out now than, you know, get surprised later.

1

[swornto]

[The dizzying scent of flowers is just that: Dizzying. Oz had been quietly inspecting the area up until that scent hit him. Then he's wobbling towards an old fence, putting a hand on it for support, and crashing to ground when the wood snaps. The shock of the fall somehow helps him to shake the vertigo, at least enough to quickly rise to his feet again, but his vision is still spotty. He's at least able to see the figure of Ozpin up ahead and calls out in concern;]

Are you okay? Did you feel that just now?

[clocktowers]

[ It wouldn't be Deerington if he didn't have passersby abruptly collapsing in the yard.

--But it isn't Deerington, quite. Things are supposed to work rather differently here; this place is not meant to have the unpredictability of a dream. So Ozpin looks up from the line of green welling in his palm, and frowns in utter bemusement at the young man currently pulling himself out of the fence. He drops his hand to step closer. ]

I... caught the scent of flowers.

[ But there's no wobble in his step, no understanding of the effect. ]

Are you alright?

[swornto]

[Oz can’t imagine how the scent of flowers made him so lightheaded. He’s suspicious that it’s connected, but really? Flowers?

… Well. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen in his life.]

Yes, sorry. That was weird. [As he gets to his feet, Oz brushes his jacket green and looks around.]

Huh… I didn’t see any flowers, but I definitely smelled them too. Is that normal?

[clocktowers]

[ An instinctive leaning towards secrecy kicks in; he closes his hand around the smear of green. ]

Difficult to say. [ He tips his head to the town at large. ] If this place at all resembles our former home, 'normal' will be a very loosely-held term indeed.

[ Which is not actually an answer! ]

I take it you are new to town, as well?

[ 'New' is a very gentle term. ]

[swornto]

New is a word for it, yeah.

[Oz still feels like a stranger to this place. Moreso because he realizes he missed part of the journey that so many others have made.]

Are you talking about the nightmare town some people were in before? I'm not from there, but I've only heard horrible things.

[clocktowers]

[ Ah. That would do it, then. ]

Deerington. For much of my time there, it was not so terrible a place. Simply a bit... unpredictable.

[ He was violently murdered twice. But that's par for Remnant, too, really. ]

It's a bit soon to predict whether this land will prove the same. But I'm afraid that sudden fainting spells and cursed flowers sound precisely as I'd expect.

continued from tdm!

[bolstafir]

[Continued from here]

[It's a life that has come with many sacrifices and losses and entirely too much pain. Once, he had told Ozpin in a swell of rage and despair that meeting him had been the unluckiest moment of his life.

It's not an opinion he holds any longer; time certainly does not heal all wounds--Salem and Ozpin themselves are evidence enough of that, but sometimes it certainly does ease the sting. Time away from the war has allowed Qrow and Ozpin to mend their bridges, to forge something new and stronger out of the wreckage of the old. It's ironic, perhaps, then, that being pulled into a child's nightmare might have been the luckiest happenstance he's had in decades.

Oz leans in and welcomes him to the new world, and he grins bright and soft, more relaxed than the wizard may have ever seen him. There is certain to be threats in this new world, but they are Huntsmen. Fighting monsters is written into their blood and their bones. Here, in this world, there is no war. There is nobody that seeks to kill them with intent. Ruby's remaining silver eye is no longer a target upon her back. Qrow no longer need look over his shoulder for signs of Salem's encroachment. He is no more Ozpin's eyes, nor his agent, but now simply his friend. They can take on whatever comes together now, as equals.]

We really made it.

[I would like to be reborn this one last time, Ozpin had said, and here they are. Neither of them are saying it quite out loud, but if this is to be Oz's final reincarnation, he is glad they can spend it together.

And, to make things just a little less sappily sentimental in this unspoken meaningful silence:]

...Gotta say, though, I wasn't expecting the squid thing. Really clashes with my whole bird aesthetic.

[clocktowers]

[ Ozpin's smile shifts, at this; something deep and intense and nearly wistful breaks into crinkle-eyed amusement. He huffs a breath and laces his fingers as he looks back out over the ocean, shoulder to warm shoulder. ]

I have had many forms. [ This he says in his most elevated tone, confessing the start of a legend, except it turns to: ] But I will confess that caught even me by surprise. I suppose it was rather in the spirit of Deerington, to take the strangest path available.

[ With the end of the silence, some vast tension seems to have broken like the pressure of a storm. Trench does not seem the sort of place for cheerful weather, but he has decided he does not mind the rain: there is something refreshing about it. Perhaps they've all been washed clean. ]

I can only imagine what will come next.

[ But he doesn't say it with dread, or with resignation, or even with weariness. He says it like it's a novelty, and a little delightful just for that. ]

[bolstafir]

Heh, probably. Deerington always did like to keep us on our toes. [A beat, and then he snorts vaguely to himself.] Or our tentacles, I guess, in this case.

[He wonders to himself, just for a moment, if when Oz speaks of other forms, he means more than his various lifetimes. It seems only logical he learned the ability to turn Qrow into a bird from somewhere, after all.

The shift back into a man felt similar yet different to that of Oz's magic. It was like ... growing into himself, an extension of what he already was. Oz's power has always been something outside of himself, even as it's become second nature to reach for that spark whenever he has need for the skies. It had quite possibly saved him from being smashed upon the rocks and drowning earlier that day, when his legs reasserted themselves at a truly inconvenient time.]

But hey, we're used to that, right?

[They're Huntsmen. Being ready for the unexpected has always been how they operate. He grins, then, a little cheeky.]

I miiight have a suggestion for what's next, though...

[He pauses dramatically, shifting against Ozpin's shoulder and leaning in as though to impart a big secret.]

There's a stand with free cocoa for Sleepers just down the beach from here.

[clocktowers]

I suppose we are.

[ He says it softly, as though wondering at the we. Perhaps they are both simply Huntsmen, to this place; both Sleepers, both fighters using any tools available to muddle through one dangerous world after another. This one may not be better, but it is new, and for that alone Ozpin cannot help but love it. He has never had something more real than a dream and still utterly, breathtakingly new.

He'll even endure the blood and tentacles in the name of freedom and novelty.

Qrow leans in close enough that his breath stirs Ozpin's hair, and Ozpin laughs. It's a sudden, charmed little breath of a laugh that bubbles up without thought. He doesn't recall the last time he laughed as easily. There is some measure of absurdity in their situation that deserves humor, and—

Well, there is no one to watch over their bizarre adventures here but them. No chessmaster, no little girl playing dolls, no would-be hero forcing everyone into her gambit. They are no one, here. They can explore without penalty and live without consequence.

Ozpin leans heavily back against Qrow's shoulder and turns to smile over it. ]

Then by all means, lead me there.