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

[frogfear]

[She takes the towel and nods her thanks, and moves to the sink to clean the cut.]

Yeah, good idea. Give me a second here, and I'll see if I can do a little pruning. That should be simple enough.

[She pats her hands dry, carefully avoiding the cut on her palm, and sets the towel aside. She studies the vines for a moment to pick what she thinks is going to be the most effective spot to start with, and reaches out a hand to cast a spell to yank them towards her.

The leaves on the vine don't even twitch.

Willow, however, recoils with a gasp as a sharp pain shoots through her temples. Her vision fogs over and she puts a hand to her forehead as she squeezes her eyes shut, and grabs for the counter with the other one to steady herself. She thinks she hears the sound of something cracking, but the moment passes and the vision is gone as suddenly as it hit.

Wincing, she carefully opens her eyes, and rubs at her throbbing temples.]

That's... not what was supposed to happen...

[clocktowers]

Willow?

[ He has already started towards her, openly concerned. He has seen her face down hordes of zombies and, vastly worse, Salem herself. He has seen Willow do things with magic he cannot fully comprehend by his own world's rules; her versatility is beyond any Maiden. He has never seen her so sharply fail. ]

Are you alright?

[frogfear]

[At home, she had become one of the most powerful witches in the world, all in the span of about four years. For a time, she was confident there wasn't a spell she couldn't try that she couldn't make work, even if later she learned that there were some that would turn out to be too costly to her own soul.

In Deerington, she had initially gone back to feeling like a beginner, with spells backfiring with startling regularity, but the Summoning Stones helped, and as the dream started to fade, it got even easier.

She was not expecting one of the simplest spells she knows - one that doesn't even need words - to backfire like this. Maybe it was just a fluke.]

I'm okay - I'm okay.

[The hand drops away from her head, and she looks around until her eyes land on the hand towel. Floating that should be no harder than floating a pencil, and she learned to do that in under a day. She redoubles her efforts and her focus, and tries again.

Like the vines, the towel does not stir, and the pain returns, and her vision clouds over enough that she feels like she's been plunged back into the mist in May back in Deerington. She hears a burst of radio static, and what sounds like a voice, but she can't make it out properly in the few moments before she has to abandon the attempt.

She's unaware that in the last few seconds, she's had to catch herself against the counter again with both elbows to keep from hitting the floor and that, again, the vision had her gasping with pain.]

Yeah, okay. There's definitely something wrong with my magic.

[clocktowers]

[ From his perspective, she reached out a hand to the plants on the wall and then promptly, painfully fainted. She stared at a hand towel and then crumpled further, her shoulders tensing as though with electric shock. Whatever is happening to her is plainly painful, disorienting, and uncomfortably new.

When she comes back to herself, Ozpin's hand is at her elbow; he has startled forward and now hovers worriedly over her shoulder, frowning down past his spectacles into her face. ]

What happened, exactly?

[frogfear]

I - I'm not really sure. Both spells were really simple ones - things I could've done in Deerington even when I was really having trouble with my magic not working right after I first got there. I was trying to pull down the plants, then float the towel.

[She stops and takes a breath.]

Everything kind of went foggy - like outside in May, can't see the hand six inches in front of your face foggy. The first time, I thought I heard something like a - like a cracking sound? The second time it was more like radio static - I think there was a voice too, but I couldn't make out what it was trying to say.

[Magic has been her first line of defense for years; the idea that she may no longer being able to rely on it is a terrifying one, especially in a place like this. She's not sure how many times she would have died in Deerington if it hadn't been for being able to pull off the right spell at the right time. The worry on Ozpin's face is mirrored clearly in her own as well.]

[clocktowers]

Something is preventing you?

[ He steps back from her, to let her regain her own space, but continues to watch her with wary concern. ]

It sounds like a sort of interference. Can you make out anything of the voice?

[frogfear]

Yeah, that sounds pretty accurate. Like interference, or, um, feedback? It's hard to describe, exactly.

[She runs a hand through her hair as she straightens up, rubbing at her head to try to discourage the lingering headache. She shakes her head in frustration. Some difficulty wouldn't have been so much of a surprise, especially given magic is still present although different in this world, but she wasn't expecting it to be completely unusable.]

I couldn't make much out of the voice, no - it sounded pretty garbled, but also kind of familiar somehow? I don't know, this probably isn't much help, sorry.

[clocktowers]

It's alright.

[ He tips his head in thought, still frowning faintly. ]

Some of your skills may return to you in time. In Deerington, our powers certainly were not static nor unaffected by the world. Perhaps we shall need to relearn their use, here.

[frogfear]

Yeah, that's true...

[She lets out a deep breath. She wants to believe that this is just temporary, but it's hard not to worry that it's not all the same.]

What about your abilities? Are you still able to do everything you could before we got here?

[clocktowers]

[ He hesitates. There is a long beat of silence, then Ozpin bows his head. ]

No. Even the simplest of abilities I once possessed seems to be... changed, in this place. Or perhaps removed entirely.

We'd thought Deerington's restrictions upon our powers onerous enough, but it seems Trench intends us to play a wholly new game.

[frogfear]

[The hesitation in itself is answer enough, and Willow winces sympathetically. This is hard on her, and she's only been practicing for not even half a decade, it must be far worse for him.]

I guess we're in the same boat then. We'll just have to figure it out together.

[clocktowers]

[ It's a particularly hopeful thing to say, and he gives her a faint smile in return.

He may be powerless, here. More vulnerable than he has ever been accustomed to. But there is something freeing in that, too: it is one more way this world regards him as just a man, freed of responsibility or significance. To rely upon together does not sound so bad a fate. ]

At least there is that.