[ 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. ]
no subject
[ 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. ]