( open ) march catch-all

[cranekin]

Who: Tsurumaru and you
Which: Open log!
Where: Out and about
What: Open dream board prompts for vines, spring planting, and elemental cores.
Warnings: N/A

VINE TRAPS

(This is a world of dreams where your emotions can give you powers.

As soon as Tsurumaru had heard that, he'd felt his chest tighten and was quick to get an even tighter grip on it. Tsurumaru Kuninaga is careful with his emotions. He keeps them carefully controlled at all times and only reveals when he wants others to see them. The idea that he might have to let others see more than he'd otherwise be willing to… he dislikes it. True to character though, even now, he keeps his disdain covered up.

Instead, when confronted with a task and told to create fire or a positive feeling, he just looks amused and leans in close,)

Well? You know what to do!

(He shifts all of the attention away from him and puts it on someone else.

If you try to turn it on him and ask him to do something first instead, he does his best to look demure. He raises a sleeve to his face, covering it partially from view, and looks away… but why does this look more coy than genuinely shy? There's that mischievous, spark in his eye. Those familiar with Certain Types of Characters might recognize it is as… … … the look of someone trying to get out of work.)

Me? I've only just arrived. I still have so much to learn~

(He sure is going to pretend to be as useless as possible. Unless you're feeling generous and want to help him figure out fire or you know... express himself?)

SPRING PLANTING

(Tsurumaru is a friendly spirit. He's social and he likes to help others, especially when he hears they're in need. So when someone asks him for a little bit of help getting ready fro spring, he's more than happy…

… Until he gets to the field. There are patches of snow, some of the fields are trashed, and even the fences need to be fixed. His expression drops and as the farmers and everyone begin to get to work, he just crouches down at the edge of the field, gathering up his all white robes so they don't touch the ground, and watches for a moment before sighing,)

Even in dreams, I end up on field duty…

(Casually implies he actually knows how to help but is choosing not to?)

What a surprise…

(Except he sounds really bummed out by it. SIGH. You asked him for help, he agreed, he came all the way here, and now he isn't going to do anything.

… Unless someone makes him.)

ELEMENTAL CORES

(This is something much more up Tsurumaru's alley. There are reports of sightings of elemental golems that need to be taken down.

He doesn't look the least bit concerned and if anything, he's just a mix of calm and excited. What is it? Ah, confidence. He's in good spirits as he skips ahead, resting his sword on his shoulders all the while. He doesn't look back as he speaks,)

I heard there were many different kinds~

(And he begins to prattle them off,)

Wind, fire, water… I wonder which one we'll find. What do you think?

(Choose your enemy before we run into it.)

WILDCARD

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Spring Planting 🌼

[thegamesafoot]

[ A man trudges up along a berm and stops beside the spirit. He surveys the situation with a squinting grimace. Sholmes had been led to believe this would be a delightfully pastoral activity. Not real, dirty work. This consummate city dweller is not well-pleased. ]

Well, I suppose even dreams can be disappointingly pedestrian.

[ But Sholmes gave his word. He sighs and rolls up the cuffs of his trousers past the ankles of his balmorals, well clear of the wet muck. He glances over at the hunkered figure. At least Sholmes' clothes aren't as ill-suited to the task as this poor chap's finery. ]

I'd imagined planting seedlings in rich loam. A few newborn lambs frolicking about, soft as clouds. A flock of fat chickens foraging, maybe.

[ He stands up straight and stretches left, right, warming up his back. ] ... Not tilling acres of sludge.

[cranekin]

Are yours?

(Because Tsuru's are never boring. He doesn't dream boring things like some people. Oh, but there goes Sholmes painting some sort of... picture with his words? Objectively, Tsurumaru can see how this is supposed to sound quaint. Beautiful! Romantic! Relaxing, even! But he seems largely unimpressed. No, it'll take more than a few pretty words to win him,)

That's what fieldwork is. It's working in the dirt, getting covered in filth, and coming out smelling like you've been outside all day.

(Gross.)

You smell even worse when there are animals, too!

[thegamesafoot]

I once spent an entire night's rest scrubbing an infinite ring of dirt from a bathtub. Another was spent shackled to a chair, paying an eight-foot stack of overdue bills. I would sooner have a proper nightmare with bogeymen or some manner of public nudity.

[ Although simply discussing the topic of nightmares here has begun to feel taboo. He shrugs off his boxy leather satchel and hangs it from a nearby fence post, then begins to remove his overcoat. ]

You sound well-acquainted with the task at hand. Hardly what I would expect from someone with such a stately presence!

[cranekin]

(Sholmes is listening his truly nightmarish dreams and Tsuru grimaces.)

I'd rather die in my sleep.

(Does he need to be this dramatic? Always.

As for the question, he hums to himself, still making absolutely no effort to try and help,)

That's what I told master. "You can't expect someone like me to do fieldwork!" And do you know what they said?

[thegamesafoot]

[ Sholmes tosses his coat over the fence as well, where it slouches heavily with the weight of buckles and laden pockets. ]

All the times I've been compelled to drudgery, any "master" in question was not moved when I pleaded my case against it.

[ After a moment, he decides the waistcoat should go as well. No use soiling more clothes than he needs to. Under all of the layers, the detective has the lean build of an intellectual with a ferociously fast metabolism. A far cry from a sturdy farmer. ]

I imagine you encountered quite the same resistance, my good fellow.

[cranekin]

(Sholmes, what is in your pockets... He's curious now. He looks over curiously, wondering if he can maybe rifle through them when Sholmes' back is turned and he's busy working. Ah, wait, he was having a conversation, that's right.)

Mhm.

(He smiles,)

They said it was my turn and everyone had to help put food on the table. (Very reasonable if he's being honest but that doesn't mean he has to like it,) And then they had me dragged off like I was some farmer's tool!

Do I look like a shovel to you?

[thegamesafoot]

[ Sholmes knows a potential pickpocket when he sees one, but he'll let it be for now. Seems the young man's attention is easily diverted. ]

You have two arms, two legs, and a head. Not a shovel, no, but perfectly endowed with those parts needed to wield one.

[ He unbuttons and rolls the sleeves of his lavender shirt up to his elbows. ]

I suppose I am, myself, a "tool"-- [ Many would nod their heads vigorously at that statement. ] --optimally designed for logic and reasoning. But sometimes I do wonder what life would be like as a humble shovel.

[ Speaking of: he picks up one that was stabbed upright into the dirt. ] Or a spade! I do love the clean, sharp lines of a spade.

[cranekin]

(Stop, he isn't a real thief... he just wants to rifle through and see what's inside. He'll happily return everything to all the right pockets once he's satisfied his curiosity.)

Eh? (He looks surprised but also scrunches his nose to make a face.) Master said the same thing.

(How dare this man use his master's own words against him like that!

(This feels like an omen.))

Designed for logic and reasoning... Ah, I see. You're boring.

(Tsuru looks so coy when he makes his little jab. He's teasing, clearly having fun, but then... he feels like he loses his ground when Sholmes keeps talking because that next little bit is less boring and more interesting. What sort of human wonders what it would be like to be like a tool... and a shovel of all things. Or a spade.

He frowns, knitting his brows together and watching him. He's! Trying! To! Understand!)

Why not imagine being something more interesting? A farmer's tool is boring, don't you think?

[thegamesafoot]

Is it? [ He hefts the shovel higher for careful inspection. ] Look upon this stout hardwood handle! Feast your eyes on this charming patina from a life in the elements.

How else would mankind dig his trenches, his graves, his tunnels? No, he would still be scrabbling helplessly against the dirt with nothing but his weak, tender fingers.

Truly, the shovel is the unassuming, unsung hero of tool-kind. [ He turns it over in his hands and smiles, suddenly taken by another thought. ] And so very like a gigantic teaspoon, ha-ha! Just holding it, I feel lilliputian! Is that not novelty enough?

[ The shovel is duly offered, handle first. ] Try it, my good fellow!

[cranekin]

(He raises his eyes to look up at the shovel and listens. It's something like a bird, looking up and tilting his head just slightly, eyes showing his attention is held but unclear if he's really understanding.

What a strange man, he thinks to himself. He can't tell if he's thoughtful or teasing. Is this genuine or is he just making things up to appeal to him? He can't tell and he listens to every clear word and each meaning.

Tsurumaru is a no farm tool. He is a sword worthy of emperors. He doesn't tend fields. He cuts through history. But Sholmes makes this common tool sound impressive to him.

(This is less along the lines of tricking a spirit and more like appealing to one instead.)

He looks at the shovel being offered to him and then at Sholmes curiously. He takes the handle...)

Lilliputian?

(What is this word.........)

[thegamesafoot]

Gulliver's Travels? By Jonathan Swift? [ He says this before he can stop himself. Not only is the young man clearly wearing eastern clothing, but it's beginning to hit home that not everyone in Reverein comes from a shared history. Or world, for that matter. ]

It's a clever tale about one man's misadventures in strange lands. Among them is an island called Lilliput, inhabited by very small people--no more than six inches high! Can you imagine such little men using spoons for shovels?

[ He leaves the shovel to Tsurumaru and finds a spade to suit his tastes. ] Really, the whole tale would be quite at home in a dream realm such as this.

[cranekin]

(The blank stare should be enough to signal that he's never heard of it. It's funny because their worlds probably have more in common than they might with others here! Tsurumaru's Japan is very standard, he's just... from a certain future and for all of his travels, his stories are very contained within Japan.

He braces himself with the shovel for a moment, planting it in the ground and leaning on it for jus ta moment before... he finally gets up.)

I've never heard of it.

(And he's clearly interested,)

What happened when he found the island?

(Tsuru might even... start working while chatting? wow.)

[thegamesafoot]

He was immediately bound by tiny ropes and shot with tiny arrows. Nothing more than pins to a giant like him! But he eventually strikes an accord with the Lilliputians.

[ It's actually a miracle that Sholmes remembers this much of the story, but he'd read and re-read it aloud at Iris' request. Who knew a child would be so enchanted by what amounted to political satire? The same kind of child who earns her doctorate at ten, apparently. ]

They put Gulliver to use fighting their war ... at least until he's accused of treason for putting a fire out with his urine. I imagine that must be a significant hazard when keeping a giant in one's community.

[ Sholmes finally steps down into the mess that is the field with a wet squelch. He flips up a frozen hunk of half-melted snow pack to find a rotten tangle of last season's plantings. He frowns. ]

I'm no farmer, but they would have done well to till this before winter.

[cranekin]

(He's listening intently, imagining the sort of story this might be. He imagines a normal man and many small people like Issun-boshi. Ah, but Issun-boshi had been the hero of his story; a perfect little hero for children to learn from.)

They should have thought more carefully about keeping a giant. (He shrugs his shoulders, shaking off his white robe and folding it once in half before setting it on top of Sholmes' clothes. ) But then, there are other ways to put out a fire too.

(They're both at fault as far as he's concerned! But now he's following along after Sholmes, too caught up in the conversation and the story to remember his original tantrum.

He slips but manages to keep his balance, landing with a dissatisfying splash that makes him grimace.)

Isn't that another story? (Ugh, he's beginning to come back to reality,) A lazy farmer and a hardworking farmer are neighbors. The hardworking one works all year and in the end, he's rewarded with a bountiful harvest. But the lazy one does nothing and starves and dies.

... Would you let these poor farmers die?

(This sure did get bleak. But he's teasing. Sholmes doesn't look like the sort of person who would let a bunch of farmers starve. He wouldn't have come to help if he was that sort of person. Tsuru is just entirely too casual with death sometimes and likes to drop it in conversation from time to time.

Its nice to remind humans of their mortality. It keeps them humble.)

[thegamesafoot]

[ If Sholmes was conspiring to get this layabout to do some work, he doesn't show it. In fact, he seems grateful to have someone to talk to; boring tasks are always helped along by some stimulating conversation. ]

Correct! There was an Aesop fable, but the farmers in question were cast as insects. "The Termite and the Caterpillar." Or was it "The Woodlouse and the Weevil"? Hm. [ He levers a broken scarecrow out of the muck and admires it for a moment. It was probably very charming last fall, but now it's nothing so much as wet and sad. ] If a farmer isn't compelled to farm, he should consider a different occupation more suited to his predilections, wouldn't you agree?

[ He stabs the scarecrow back into the ground. ] He's rather the wrong tool for the job, if we return to that metaphor.

[cranekin]

(Sholmes... effectively doing what it has taken some spirits months to do in just a couple of minutes. Very impressive.

And while Tsurumaru is helping, there's still a level of reluctance in his actions. He picks at the dirt a bit with his shovel and seems hesitant to really get into thick of it but he will actually help dig out some of the rocks and broken pieces of wood that are otherwise in the way. )

Perhaps.

(He shrugs and plants his shovel in the ground to rest for just a moment. He really does hate field work.)

But if I recall, times have also been difficult.

[thegamesafoot]

[ Difficult. Sholmes can't help but think of a friend (and one new acquaintance) who suffered ... injury? Is that accurate? From nightmares. ]

Right you are. For all its idyllic charm, this place is plagued by a certain darkness.

[ He mirrors Tsurumaru's pose, propping his elbow on the top of the handle, a bit awkwardly given his height and the way it quickly sinks into the mud. He may have persuaded the other man to work, but Sholmes isn't about to make any fast progress himself. Maybe together they'll complete the work of one farmhand? Maybe. ]

Have you been here long? Are you joined by your master?

[cranekin]

Unsurprising. Nothing is ever perfectly good.

(As quaint as things may seem, something will always go wrong. He's been alive long enough to know better than to rest easy.

Together, they'll surely do enough work for one person and never be invited back ever again. Wouldn't that be great? Tsuru would love to never work the fields ever again.)

Not for very long. I only arrived a short time ago. (He doesn't sound too bothered. Again, he's used to this too; moving from one place to the other without much say at all.) But I'm afraid I've arrived all on my own.

Ah, I do wonder how master is, though... hopefully not too bored~

[thegamesafoot]

Yes! Always good to nurture a bit of healthy pessimism. [ He says this in an incongruously chipper tone as he uses the edge of his spade to hack at a bundle of roots. ]

I'm also freshly arrived. Some days past, although my sense of time is a bit askew. Maybe the lack of a moon is disturbing a deep part of my primate brain. [ Or maybe he's always had a poor sense of time. ]

Your clothing suggests you come from the Empire of Japan. Your master is a feudal lord, perhaps? [ Another heavy chop, and he manages to split the mass. ] They're rather on the decline where ... or perhaps when I come from.