[ The Nectar that Pickles gave him has worn off, so he's glad to finally escape the damn party and have some peace and quiet. Not that it helps much because Camille is here. Every effect is on, and the emotionshare is so much loud static. There's a ruefulness, the side of him that demands why did you die, the distant part of him that's come to accept the cruelty of this place softly feeling you're free now, and the third twisted part of him, exacerbated by the town and the monster and his deal with the Pocketcat whose border wears thinner than ever that is oh so happy to see her here.
None of these present themselves in the way he walks and talks, outside of the slight skulkiness that one could reasonably expect of the situation. ]
...Mr. Aventurine has some notebooks prepared as a sort of primer to catch people who arrive up to speed. I can lend you mine. It's in the apartments -- you can claim a room for yourself.
Her own hesitations are easy to read. Arms firmly folded at her middle, walking with him but not so close. It won't save her from the leak of their heads and hearts, but she is trying. No bites, no handholding, none of the physical shit forced on them at every odd week.
Her own brief high is wearing down. She'd tackled the party with a sort of nihilistic abandon. Fuck it, I'm dead, I haven't seen you all in forever. It didn't serve her terribly well, both in action and in the aftermath. The carry over from the living half creeps back in and gnaws at her bones. Asa's face keeps flashing back to her, watching the blood splatter over it. The guilt. The fear — they almost all kids, no matter how capable. The heartbreak.
And then there is walking next to Daan. His own transmissions curdle her gut. She'd wanted so badly to see him in clearer form last week, and now that she has it she's gunshy. She's still expecting a see you never, frankly, and the part of him that feels glad to see her comes from a keen emptiness that makes her want to turn the other way.
Pack it all in with the flip flopping mortality, the buzz of the booze, the uncertainty of how she feels about the people here or what her role has turned out to be? It's a steaming mess.]
I'd love a shower. And a notebook, yes, I'm completely out of the loop. [She wets her lips and looks over her shoulder, the opposite direction. Hazy eyes taking in all the new digs.] Are the apartments finders keepers, like how they do upstairs? Or do I have to apply for something officially?
All you need to do is grab a key from the front desk, no paperwork nor official application needed. They start off bare but once you claim one, they adjust a bit to be more to your liking. It's a bit strange that way, but so are most things around here.
If you get injured at any point, there's a spring here, right near where they threw the celebration actually. It acts much like the swamp, though more pleasantly since you're not drowning in muck. There's still dangers about, so it's advised you don't walk around alone.
If you die, you won't disappear permanently. You'll end up waking up where we usually show up, which is over at the cemetery. I wouldn't test that much if I were you though, further death tends to come with consequences.
I think that's most of the major general things... as for business matters, we've been gradually collecting machine parts, as well as getting strange rocks with some kind of magic reserve power. They were just discussing how to use both yesterday. Current ideas are pointing to spending them on releasing our living of their monster afflictions, restoring our time points back to where we originally were taken from or otherwise adjusting, allowing some level of... timeline convergence I suppose, for those from the same world but with oddities and differences between experiences... and being able to transcend or traverse space and time, or go across each other's worlds to put it in less grandiose terms.
Possibly the restoration of any special powers or abilities for those who have them, but that one's not very solidified yet. Might not happen.
We'll likely have another talk to solidify choices soon, so you should ruminate on whether you have any general thoughts or ideas.
...Good God, how is it we have a bigger workload after we're dead?
[Camille breaks the tight fold of her arms to rub at her head. Right the ever-untameable locks of hair, falling over face and shoulders at all the wrong times.]
I'll ruminate, yes, thank you. For now though I'd settle for a smoke and a good scrub.
We traded emotional suffering for consistent work?
[ Offering, helpfully. He observes her and her hair. ]
There's also a... there's a salon.
[ He was going to say there's a jazz bar, but then he remembers the whole thing about her sobriety and decided to skip it instead. He can provide alcohol-free, he has been, but it's just counterproductive to suggest a bar to a struggling recoverer anyway. His own hair is a little bit freshly trimmed, cleaned up the edges that grew out and got rougher from two months of stay. ]
We can workshop that into a capitalist slogan, surely.
[She looks a touch befuddled at that. Then realizes her hand is still in her hair.]
That'd be nice. Is it...run by us, or forces beyond comprehension?
[She had thought he'd looked tidied up last week. Beyond even what a good bath can do. Her eyes run a line over the smooth edge to his fringe. There's a touch of fondness breaching the gap now. Soon to be lost in the miserable brew they're making, but present.]
I'd hope you wouldn't, but it's more likely than I'd like to admit. Had an unpleasant experience the same week I arrived, it's a whole thing. Consider them something like smaller-scale aberrations, but that's where we've been getting the machine parts and rocks from...
[ Oh yeah I described him as being in bandages the last Camille saw him. He's a bit better now, in an eyepatch again. Anyway they can walk into the apartment complex... go grab your key Camille and he just gestures to her like she can claim any room she wants that isn't already taken. ]
You don't say? [The mood is very much "this may as well happen."] I knew you were tagging along for our field trips, Asa and I took Iwatooshi and Nina along last week. Didn't realize you had extra credit excursions on your own.
Is that what happened to your head?
[she'll take the key ty, unwittingly opening the door next to Daan's.]
Karlach and I had an unpleasant one at the Lakeview Hotel, yes. I don't think we'll have any more of them considering it seems we have all we need, but just to be safe.
[ Well. He just kind of walks away and into his own room since they're here, and comes back out with the primer notebook he got from Aventurine, holding it out for her. There you go. ]
[She doesn't think she saw Karlach looking too badly roughed up (or flurry is also obscuring a missing arm). Maybe she'll ask tomorrow, once Boothill is no longer hogging her like a dragon with its hoard.
A new flash of surprise takes her as he vanishes into the next door over. Followed by a mild embarrassment. She takes the notebook when he resurfaces, flipping it back to front.]
Cute. Thank you.
[A brief silence follows. He'll take it the wrong way. Still she wets her lips. Cocks her head.]
You know, I'll be up for a while yet probably. If you wanted to keep chatting.
[She holds the pastel pink up beside his face. He is immediately washed out. Daan is probably a soft summer or a cool winter, sad boy palettes only.]
It is a little unnerving, jumping from one side to the other. And I'm...still worried about them. Worried about the people here too, even if you were all in bikinis and swim trunks when I showed up.
[ He'd be an incredible tormented fashion designer in another life. His eye looks askance at the notebook being held up against him for comparison, then back to her. ]
If it helps, they were practically like waiting dogs around mine and Karlach's coffins when we woke up. Practically ready to pounce on the two of us.
[ Seeing Karlach show up was a shock to Daan since she died after him, but that's a different story. ]
Not the kind of event I would have thrown in a time like this, but everyone finds their personal comforts somewhere.
[Upset and appalled this is not the timeline we have. She puts the notebook away for now. When she's in a mood to read she'll give it a look.]
That's rather sweet, though. Maybe unnerving, but at least they were happy to see you.
[Imagine the opposite. Devastating.]
Me either. But people need to blow off steam somehow. The higher the stakes, the harder they go. [More power to them. In the meantime?] So? Cool if I come over?
Or you could come to mine.
[So tempting, this scantly furnished vacant suite.]
[ Thinks about Izutsumi and Karma threatening his life on entry. Yeah.
He's taking a moment to think. His own suite is something -- lavish, just like the rooms of the von Dutch estate. High class, yet quaint. Nostalgia, familiarity. And yet, there's something else there, the outline of a moon in the black far wall, a torn caution tape in the corner, blood under the furniture. He closes his eye briefly. Maybe let's not invite Camille into that. ]
[Well Izutsumi had a reason. Karma never needs one.
Her mood lifts a touch. Her smile is still subdued, the hour and the day still weighs heavy. But he accepts.]
Well come on in.
[She widens the door and slips inside, looking for a spot to drop both keys and notebook.
It's very much a blank canvas. Motel-like. Standardized furniture, rote decor, little in the way of theme. Dim, even with the lights on. There's bed in the room beyond. Some glassware in the cupboard. Nothing much in the fridge. She fetches them both some water in lieu of anything better, passing it off to him as she takes a seat.
An ash tray has sprouted on the coffee table. She doesn't think it was there before.]
Don't know how much time I'll have to make a real nest of it, but I've never been one for decorating anyway.
[ He stands here, a clear stranger in another person's room. Not overly awkward, but just enough of that politeness when in another person's place, whether it be a personal space or just their motel number.
It's quaint here, small. Practical. He accepts the water with a nod. ]
Doubt most have. It's just a place to sleep, mostly, and rest. At least you won't actually have to do much in terms of furnishing.
Creepy. But that's not much different than usual, at least for me. I've been living in my editor's basement for the last year. It's comfy. All I can ask for.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Don't ask me why, I wouldn't know.
[ The Nectar that Pickles gave him has worn off, so he's glad to finally escape the damn party and have some peace and quiet. Not that it helps much because Camille is here. Every effect is on, and the emotionshare is so much loud static. There's a ruefulness, the side of him that demands why did you die, the distant part of him that's come to accept the cruelty of this place softly feeling you're free now, and the third twisted part of him, exacerbated by the town and the monster and his deal with the Pocketcat whose border wears thinner than ever that is oh so happy to see her here.
None of these present themselves in the way he walks and talks, outside of the slight skulkiness that one could reasonably expect of the situation. ]
...Mr. Aventurine has some notebooks prepared as a sort of primer to catch people who arrive up to speed. I can lend you mine. It's in the apartments -- you can claim a room for yourself.
Privacy, and a shower.
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Her own hesitations are easy to read. Arms firmly folded at her middle, walking with him but not so close. It won't save her from the leak of their heads and hearts, but she is trying. No bites, no handholding, none of the physical shit forced on them at every odd week.
Her own brief high is wearing down. She'd tackled the party with a sort of nihilistic abandon. Fuck it, I'm dead, I haven't seen you all in forever. It didn't serve her terribly well, both in action and in the aftermath. The carry over from the living half creeps back in and gnaws at her bones. Asa's face keeps flashing back to her, watching the blood splatter over it. The guilt. The fear — they almost all kids, no matter how capable. The heartbreak.
And then there is walking next to Daan. His own transmissions curdle her gut. She'd wanted so badly to see him in clearer form last week, and now that she has it she's gunshy. She's still expecting a see you never, frankly, and the part of him that feels glad to see her comes from a keen emptiness that makes her want to turn the other way.
Pack it all in with the flip flopping mortality, the buzz of the booze, the uncertainty of how she feels about the people here or what her role has turned out to be? It's a steaming mess.]
I'd love a shower. And a notebook, yes, I'm completely out of the loop. [She wets her lips and looks over her shoulder, the opposite direction. Hazy eyes taking in all the new digs.] Are the apartments finders keepers, like how they do upstairs? Or do I have to apply for something officially?
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If you get injured at any point, there's a spring here, right near where they threw the celebration actually. It acts much like the swamp, though more pleasantly since you're not drowning in muck. There's still dangers about, so it's advised you don't walk around alone.
If you die, you won't disappear permanently. You'll end up waking up where we usually show up, which is over at the cemetery. I wouldn't test that much if I were you though, further death tends to come with consequences.
I think that's most of the major general things... as for business matters, we've been gradually collecting machine parts, as well as getting strange rocks with some kind of magic reserve power. They were just discussing how to use both yesterday. Current ideas are pointing to spending them on releasing our living of their monster afflictions, restoring our time points back to where we originally were taken from or otherwise adjusting, allowing some level of... timeline convergence I suppose, for those from the same world but with oddities and differences between experiences... and being able to transcend or traverse space and time, or go across each other's worlds to put it in less grandiose terms.
Possibly the restoration of any special powers or abilities for those who have them, but that one's not very solidified yet. Might not happen.
We'll likely have another talk to solidify choices soon, so you should ruminate on whether you have any general thoughts or ideas.
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[Camille breaks the tight fold of her arms to rub at her head. Right the ever-untameable locks of hair, falling over face and shoulders at all the wrong times.]
I'll ruminate, yes, thank you. For now though I'd settle for a smoke and a good scrub.
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[ Offering, helpfully. He observes her and her hair. ]
There's also a... there's a salon.
[ He was going to say there's a jazz bar, but then he remembers the whole thing about her sobriety and decided to skip it instead. He can provide alcohol-free, he has been, but it's just counterproductive to suggest a bar to a struggling recoverer anyway. His own hair is a little bit freshly trimmed, cleaned up the edges that grew out and got rougher from two months of stay. ]
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[She looks a touch befuddled at that. Then realizes her hand is still in her hair.]
That'd be nice. Is it...run by us, or forces beyond comprehension?
[She had thought he'd looked tidied up last week. Beyond even what a good bath can do. Her eyes run a line over the smooth edge to his fringe. There's a touch of fondness breaching the gap now. Soon to be lost in the miserable brew they're making, but present.]
You look nice.
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...
Despite what this place would have you believe, I'm not an animal. It's been bothering me not being able to get a proper trim in.
[ This is truly grumbled like an annoyance. He's a priss. Just that after 3 days + 2 months he has just given up on complaining as much. ]
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I had no such impression of you, fear not.
[His fancy checkered pants betrayed his foppish tendencies.]
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[ Anyway. He gestures to the direction of the apartments. ]
They're over there. To your shower, notebooks, and off to bed then.
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And where are you off to?
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[She says, in a PC with the two most anti-party people after Kanda.
In that case, she jerks her head to the building.]
Walk me in then. Make sure I don't step into an eternal void or something.
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[ Tempting but no... ]
I'd hope you wouldn't, but it's more likely than I'd like to admit. Had an unpleasant experience the same week I arrived, it's a whole thing. Consider them something like smaller-scale aberrations, but that's where we've been getting the machine parts and rocks from...
[ Oh yeah I described him as being in bandages the last Camille saw him. He's a bit better now, in an eyepatch again. Anyway they can walk into the apartment complex... go grab your key Camille and he just gestures to her like she can claim any room she wants that isn't already taken. ]
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Is that what happened to your head?
[she'll take the key ty, unwittingly opening the door next to Daan's.]
Huh. Homey.
[still better than the theater....]
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[ Well. He just kind of walks away and into his own room since they're here, and comes back out with the primer notebook he got from Aventurine, holding it out for her. There you go. ]
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A new flash of surprise takes her as he vanishes into the next door over. Followed by a mild embarrassment. She takes the notebook when he resurfaces, flipping it back to front.]
Cute. Thank you.
[A brief silence follows. He'll take it the wrong way. Still she wets her lips. Cocks her head.]
You know, I'll be up for a while yet probably. If you wanted to keep chatting.
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I didn't choose the design.
[ It is cute though. He looks at her with a neutral expression though his head tilts to mirror hers minutely when he catches the stray thought. ]
Can't sleep, can you? Nobody would blame you.
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No? But it's just your color.
[She holds the pastel pink up beside his face. He is immediately washed out. Daan is probably a soft summer or a cool winter, sad boy palettes only.]
It is a little unnerving, jumping from one side to the other. And I'm...still worried about them. Worried about the people here too, even if you were all in bikinis and swim trunks when I showed up.
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If it helps, they were practically like waiting dogs around mine and Karlach's coffins when we woke up. Practically ready to pounce on the two of us.
[ Seeing Karlach show up was a shock to Daan since she died after him, but that's a different story. ]
Not the kind of event I would have thrown in a time like this, but everyone finds their personal comforts somewhere.
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That's rather sweet, though. Maybe unnerving, but at least they were happy to see you.
[Imagine the opposite. Devastating.]
Me either. But people need to blow off steam somehow. The higher the stakes, the harder they go. [More power to them. In the meantime?] So? Cool if I come over?
Or you could come to mine.
[So tempting, this scantly furnished vacant suite.]
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He's taking a moment to think. His own suite is something -- lavish, just like the rooms of the von Dutch estate. High class, yet quaint. Nostalgia, familiarity. And yet, there's something else there, the outline of a moon in the black far wall, a torn caution tape in the corner, blood under the furniture. He closes his eye briefly. Maybe let's not invite Camille into that. ]
Yours.
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Her mood lifts a touch. Her smile is still subdued, the hour and the day still weighs heavy. But he accepts.]
Well come on in.
[She widens the door and slips inside, looking for a spot to drop both keys and notebook.
It's very much a blank canvas. Motel-like. Standardized furniture, rote decor, little in the way of theme. Dim, even with the lights on. There's bed in the room beyond. Some glassware in the cupboard. Nothing much in the fridge. She fetches them both some water in lieu of anything better, passing it off to him as she takes a seat.
An ash tray has sprouted on the coffee table. She doesn't think it was there before.]
Don't know how much time I'll have to make a real nest of it, but I've never been one for decorating anyway.
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It's quaint here, small. Practical. He accepts the water with a nod. ]
Doubt most have. It's just a place to sleep, mostly, and rest. At least you won't actually have to do much in terms of furnishing.
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