[Open] The More Things Change...

[roseofmay]

Who: Beatrix, You (yes, you!)
Which: Catch-All Log for June
Where: All over Reverein, and anywhere else one needs to be
What: Beatrix tries to keep a starfish alive, assaulted by starfish and stuck in a storm of them, a little dreamotion practise (the smallest of barriers!), and visits the garden to tend to the roses.
Warnings: Not expecting any, but will update as necessary.


01. Starfish in the Rain

[Even on a day that begins overcast, work remains a constant in Beatrix's mind. There are patrols to be done, the coliseum to check the condition of (especially with the change in weather as has been noted so far), training, and everything else that she has been most desperate to keep herself occupied with. In short, hopefully never a dull moment in Beatrix's preoccupied life.

She has a routine she follows and that's the way she likes it. She wants to be at certain places at certain times. Punctual, if not early. And in some ways, it feels as if every day is the same. She keeps her hands busy and offers but a sliver in the broad spectrum of her day for things aren't normally scheduled.

By the time she's made her way to the coliseum, the sky above is dark and churning. Wind whipping her hair this and that way. Beatrix eyes it warily, though thinks little of it save that she ought to put some pep into her step. This lasts until a well-placed plop winds up in her hair. And then another smaller one. A larger one right atop the shoulder, like a curl of weight she simply can't identify.

Hands lift and as she feels around with her fingers, she traces the arms of a starfish that's kissed the crown of her head and tries to wiggle her fingertips beneath it.]

You have got to be kidding me.

[This is not at all going according to plan. Needless to say, the starfish seem a bit attached to their newly-found friend. If only she felt the same way.]

02. Do you want to save a starfish?

[In retrospect, the act of keeping a starfish seems silly. An opportunity for revenge, she supposes, though Beatrix doubts that starfish have the high capacity for ideas like revenge and anger. If anything, they probably merely want to eat and sleep (if starfish sleep), and get on with their very leisurely lives. No need for subordinates or soldiers, listening to queens, or dealing with emotionally intensive conversations.

...Beatrix, for but a moment, tries to imagine what it might be like to be a starfish. It ends quickly. That is not the life for her.

She's eyeing the appropriately-sized jar (though in hindsight, perhaps bigger than it needs to be) that she's obtained, traipsing around in soft, moist ground beneath her feet. The starfish in question look different. Not necessarily like the ones that decided Beatrix was in need of an intervention. She finds one. Just one. A small little thing that she could have simply stepped on. As she's picking it up, she squints with scrutiny.]

One can barely see you. I cannot possibly understand the value in trying to keep you alive.

[But that's what was requested. What she'll get in return, she can't even say, but isn't this better than doing next to nothing? And who's to say when the next storm of starfish will come up?

She looses a sigh and with a healthy amount of Beatrix Disdain, she gently drops her very small starfish into her jar of water that is probably not salty enough.]

And now I am going to have to keep watch over you. Is that it.

03. Testing the Barriers

I would like to say I am improving.

[It's an observation, really. An assessment of her own skills. She still regularly makes a stop to the training grounds she first originally paid visit to when she was testing and continuing to refine her sword arm.

With hands spread before her, she presses fingertips up against the seemingly solid transparent barrier. As if it's glass, though when she touches it, it's distinctly cold. Unsurprising. It seems as if every time her dreamotion comes into play, it's all about ice and other related things.

Making a fist, she tests the durability of the barrier.]

Sturdy. Stable. Yet too small. We cannot protect Reverein with a plethora of these.

[But that's not really the point, is it? As she's staring at her hands, she's thinking about what's been brought to her attention so far. The nature of determining properties of dreamotion, its fluctuations, and how to make consistent use of something that seems so... inconsistent.]

A vessel strong enough to withstand dreamotion. Capable of harbouring it. He said a crystal, but how do we know one vessel will be able to hold all kinds of dreamotion? And how do we ask Reverein citizens to donate their own at the cost of themselves?

04. Everything's Coming up [Muggy] Roses

[The garden of roses has continued to be a warm and familiar presence to her. When she's surrounded by them, Beatrix can, for a breath or two, pretend that she's in Alexandria during the course of happier days. The more time she spends in this world, the more she's able to see a difference in herself. In the person she's become. Affected by those who have formed camaraderie with her. Friendships, though she doubts she's so comfortable using the term. Circumstance. Time. Not having the concept of war hanging over her as it has certainly done from time to time, chaining her to a responsibility that in the present, she's not sure why she was so willing to follow it.

The roses grant her time.

Casting a look upward to a sunny day that is a nice contrast to the odd storms that have come and gone. It's warm. A little too warm, honestly, she's thinking as she works hands beneath her hair to lift it for just a moment. Muggy. Uncomfortable.]

I imagine you are all just loving this.

[She's saying it to the flowers, who seem to be relatively in good condition. But that's why she's here. A watering can and pruning shears in hand, she's ready to keep herself busy.]

I have to wonder if anyone else is tending to you. Maybe it is just another form of this world's unique abilities. It could be as simple as wishing for your nurturing to make it possible. Defeats the purpose of manual work, however. There is nothing quite like tending to things with one's own hands.

05. Wildcard

[As written. Feel free to suggest something different, make a fusion of the above, or whatever else might be striking your fancy. I'm very happy to write starters for any interested parties. If you have any plotting ideas or questions, you can either PM me, contact me via Discord, or grab me on ofthesky.]

Comments

03!

[thegamesafoot]

Cost of themselves, you say. [ Sholmes perches on the top rail of a waist-high fence, smoking his pipe and watching Beatrix experiment with her barriers. It's yet another new form of dreamotion, but then again, everyone he's met has had their own unique spin. Some new application. ] The way you say it, if you conjure too many of those shields at once, you might be rendered immaterial. Poof! Do we know that for a fact, General?

[ He taps the toe of his boot on the lower rail of the fence. His questions are honest enough; he genuinely doesn't know how to isolate and define the constituent matter of dreams, if it can even be done at all. ] Is dreamotion not unlike a bodily humor—blood, bile, et cetera—replenished over time?

[roseofmay]

[All he has to do is speak to draw her out of her thoughts. And just like that, her focus diminishes as she sets her attention onto Herlock. She leaves a hand pressed carefully against the barrier she's created, as if she finds some kind of security in its very simple existence.]

Immaterial is not how I would put it. Said replenishment takes time, Master Sholmes.

[She finally turns fully, more properly, to examine him as she is wont to do. Always assessing. Always scrutinising. Settling a hand atop her hip, she continues.] That is, time is required without the assistance of restorative dreamotion energy. Presumably. I have not tested that personally to know for certain. Hypothetically speaking, let us remove that possibility from the situation. One cannot keep up constant use of dreamotion. Who knows what the real effects are of someone being entirely depleted. Is that something you wish to test out?

[thegamesafoot]

Oh yes, let us test the boundaries! [ This is said with a disturbing amount of glee—even as he's promised multiple people he'll "be careful" and "won't do anything stupid." But such extreme prudence is antithetical to curiosity and the furtherance of science! ]

Are you volunteering, or shall I? [ He taps out the contents of his pipe and slides off the fence. He really is serious about this. ] I suppose we both could give it a go, but one of us really should take notes ...

[roseofmay]

[He is far too enthused about this. She can appreciate a confident approach and the initiative that comes with it. Foolhardiness, perhaps. A part of him, that personality of his, would be beneficial for a soldier, but a touch dangerous as well. Soldiers tend to be of more value when they're alive as opposed to the alternative.]

I applaud your courage in this undertaking, but given that I am not fully certain of the effects one may suffer should they deplete their dreamotion or what is used to create it, I have some concerns about deliberately putting you in a position where you may be injured as a result.

[It doesn't sound very general of her, but perhaps it's the idea that she isn't being influenced by war or conquest or whatever may have hung over her in Alexandria. She doesn't like the idea of putting him in harm's way. Or anyone else, for that matter.]

Perhaps it would be better to allow me in such a situation.

[thegamesafoot]

[ Sholmes was about to insist that she could cart him off to Dr. Mikotoba, but the looming spectre of Susato's disapproving face makes him think otherwise. He implied he'd be a better partner, and that means not putting himself in unnecessary danger.

Sholmes was not, however, expecting Beatrix to agree to this, much less volunteer in his stead. For a moment, he mulls over the ethics of allowing someone else to suffer possible harm, but really, it's up to her. ]

General, if you truly wish to help shed valuable light on this aspect of dreamotion, I shan't stop you. [ He shrugs and slips his pipe back into a pocket. ] I imagine it may even prove useful for a soldier to test the bounds of her power outside of battle rather than in the thick of it.

[roseofmay]

[She thinks, he may be missing the point. A knight is supposed to protect people. Isn't that what she did in Alexandria? The royal family. Her princess. The people in this world, those she is close to, she wants to protect them as well. Even people like Sholmes.

Although she suspects he probably has some very interesting ways to get himself out of danger.]

This is not the first time I have indulged. That said, my dreamotion skills are not great. In or out of battle. Not for lack of practise. I confess I am not an imaginative woman. I like details. I like things I can touch and see with my own eyes. Things reacting to my feelings, to imagination, these are not my places of expertise.

[After a moment's consideration, she draws her attention onto him with a lop-sided curve of her mouth.]

That is, if you are expecting to be impressed, I will likely fail to meet that.

[thegamesafoot]

Oh, but I fully understand your frustration. It's useful to have some governing principles to the world. But I find patterns and order are most elusive when I'm trying too hard to find them. My thinking becomes too rigid. [ Sholmes approaches her shield, drums his fingertips against it, then balls them into a fist and gives it a firm rap with his knuckles. ]

At that point, I relax and simply allow things to happen. [ He raises a finger. ] For instance, when I reach into my pocket, I sometimes pull out an item I'm absolutely positive wasn't there before. Observe.

[ He shakes out his limbs, rubs his hands together, then dives a hand into his coat pocket. With a magician's flourish, he pulls out ... a broccoli floret. If there's any doubt it wasn't there before, it's not even covered in lint. The vegetable is tossed aside before he reaches into another pocket and produces a shiny, new harmonica. ]

It's rarely anything of use, but it can be a pleasant surprise! [ Sholmes brings the harmonica to his mouth and wheezes out a few notes. ] Have you ever tried to "go with the flow" so to speak? Explore the breadth of what your dreamotion can produce?

[roseofmay]

[As a woman who is fully rigid in thought most of the time, she can relate, even if she's not inclined to say as much. There's logic in approaching it like so, too. Too much of anything tends to be a bad thing. Too much thought, too much feeling, too much weighing in the opposite direction. Balance is such a very precarious thing...]

Would that such things could be taught.

[Her response is murmured out. Relax. Simply allow things to happen? Sounds almost like blasphemy to her. Beatrix doubts she could do that even if she wanted to. Her need for control is almost too powerful.

Her attention turns onto his upcoming demonstration, however, and she simply stares at him. Did he just pull a vegetable out of his pocket? Did he just follow it up with a musical instrument?

Magic.]

I do not host pockets. [He didn't ask, of course, and it's a relatively flimsy thing to say, but evidently she says it all the same. Loosing a sigh, Beatrix continues.] I am not fond of such... things. I do not like being in control of situations or things around me within reason. I admit to liking things to go my way.

[And being very agitated when they do not.]

[thegamesafoot]

Who says they cannot?

[ A moment's pause, and then he asks: ] Have you ever cared for a child, General? An infant in particular? That is the ultimate lesson in allowing things to happen.

[ Once Sholmes has been thoroughly distracted by the discussion at hand—the broccoli quietly disappears, forgotten. Even the harmonica is having trouble maintaining consistency: the brand name changes, the cover plates shift from chrome to bronze and back again. ]

Controlling what goes into or comes out of a baby's mouth is as futile as halting the tides. One can mitigate the damage, surely, but worrying overmuch about a soiled shirt or important evidence being chewed upon—that will wear one down in the long run. Better to accept it and move on.

And that laissez-faire experiment paid off: I never overexerted my authority, and that drooling infant grew into a fully-formed genius. [ This outcome had less to do with any (allegedly) conscious decision about parenting and more to do with Iris’ innate potential, but he’s still going to take the credit. ]

All that to say: allow your dreamotion to be an unruly child! Let it make a messy ruckus and see what comes of it!

[roseofmay]

[No. The only child she can ever remember being around was the princess. The first one before Garnet took her place. True, that Garnet was only six years of age when she was fated to fall into the position of royalty. Being 'around,' however, is a great deal different from truly caring for one.

Her head tilts thoughtfully, feeling that the subtle dip in her chin is answer enough. She's a militant. Not a caretaker. To her it seems obvious that she knows nothing about childcare. But in the end, she marginally understands what he's getting at.]

Sounds like something Eustace would say.

[Didn't he? Something about her just giving up and accepting things as they were? Of course, he was talking about her relationships with others and not dreamotion, but it can easily apply to multiple things.

She doesn't outright agree with him, though she understands the parallels. And whilst it might be more appropriate to address the situation at hand, she does what she does best. She evades.]

I was unaware you had a child. You did not seem the sort. Although, I admittedly know nothing about parenthood. My assessment holds absolutely no weight. I suppose you do speak a bit the way a father would.

[thegamesafoot]

[ Eustace ... Ah, of course! The fellow with the ears and the lightning gun. For a moment, he feels vindicated, but Beatrix's distraction works before he can continue to press the point. ]

We share no blood in common, if that cushions your shock. [ Or is it more shocking? He swaps the harmonica for a more solid item: his dog-eared journal, from which he plucks a photographic print of the pink-haired girl in question. ] Don't be fooled by that cherubic face—she can be quite the little imp.

[ He allows himself a fleeting smile at the photo before he snaps back to attention, clucking his tongue in disapproval. ] But you'll not divert me from the matter at hand. You must loosen that iron grip of yours—it's the magic of dreams after all!

[ Sholmes spreads his arms as if to take in the whole of the muggy heat. ] You already have an affinity for ice ... how about defying this miserable weather with some pleasant snowfall?

[roseofmay]

[Score. One more successful evasion.

Her eyebrow raises at his explanation. Adoption? Perhaps a similar situation to Garnet's? No, probably not that. Such a circumstance is far too specific to be terribly common. When he shows her the photo, she stares at it for several moments.

Alexandria doesn't have cameras or photos. To her, it looks like the smallest painting that's ever been done and the detailing is impeccable. She'd love to hear more about it, but before she even gets the chance to pursue that, he's already back to the matter at hand.

Make that evasion not successful at all.]

I am not a woman of dreams, I confess. [As if that's not obvious already. Her gaze moves onto the sky. She can keep herself cool if she wanted to, though that thought's never even occurred to her.] I am not capable of changing the weather, you know. I would not even call the ice an affinity. Simply a consequence of my demeanour.

[Well. She's not going to accomplish anything with that kind of mindset.]

[thegamesafoot]

Just a fistful of flakes will do! [ He closes Iris' photo back in the pages of his journal and flaps the whole book like a fan against the heat. ]

Come now, even a resolute general like yourself didn't emerge from the womb burdened with grim purpose. Surely you enjoyed a childhood in the interim.

[ His head cocks like a curious dog. Or a man who never fully grew out of his own childhood. ] How did the young Beatrix while away the idle days of her youth?

[roseofmay]

[Enjoyed. A. Childhood.

Well. She supposes she didn't hate growing up, though she understands most of her interest was in... exactly what she's doing now. Almost, anyway.]

I studied knights and soldiers.

[Her answer is straight forward and perhaps a little amused. Maybe he doesn't expect to hear just such a thing. Or... perhaps he does.]

If you were thinking I played with dolls and imagined sunshine and rainbows, could not be further from the truth. I suppose I imagined what it would be like to face off against dragons and great beasts, but I am familiar with that now. And I am no longer that child who has such dreams of grandeur.

[thegamesafoot]

[ The answer is unsurprising. As part of his professional practice, Sholmes has created (what he considers) a fairly accurate taxonomy of personalities: this includes the people who grope around for a purpose, and others who are born with it already in hand. The latter further splits in two: those who relish wielding such a clear destiny, and others who carry it like a burden.

Beatrix may have been born with clear purpose, but whether it's a gift or a curse ...? Sholmes is still gathering definitive data to verify his theory.

Either way, the image of such a severe little girl is actually quite charming. ]

What manner of dreams have taken their place?

[roseofmay]

Dreams. To dream is to imply that I may not be able to make it a reality. I would not say I have dreams. I have reachable feats that I refuse to let slip from my grasp.

[And that. Is arrogance. She knows it the moment she says it. Realistically, Beatrix will not win every battle. She will not succeed at everything she puts herself up against. But she also knows she will do everything within her power to accomplish something and she isn't afraid of death or whatever repercussions that might have to come out of it.

(Except vulnerability and weakness.)]

My primary concern is that I perform my duties to the best of my ability and offer appropriate guardianship to Her Majesty and my princess. Those are dreams. Those are reality. I am good at what I do. I have no reason to believe I will not continue to see that fulfilled.

[thegamesafoot]

Admirably pragmatic. But it seems terribly self-limiting—dare I say boring—to attempt only those "reachable feats" that you are good at. You never know, General, you could have a turn for beekeeping or basket weaving!

[ He raises his hat long enough to ruffle some of the heat and sweat from his hair. ]

What were we discussing before? Ah, yes! How far one can extend dreamotion! If the prospect of looking a fool troubles you, then here, allow me— [ Sholmes eagerly begins pulling more items from his pockets and tossing them into a pile: a spool of thread, a fistful of dice, a chalkboard eraser ... Presumably, each of them is draining some fraction of his energy. ]

[roseofmay]

Neither of those things sound particularly interesting to me. I enjoy working with my sword and I enjoy protecting my kingdom's people.

[She's trying to picture herself being a beekeeper. Or. Basket weaving. Neither of these seem like they would suit her in the slightest. She might help someone else once or twice with such a thing, but she has no interest in doing it herself personally. Not for anything extensive, anyway.

He continues and beyond his words, his very generous offer, he proceeds to make a pile of... nonsense. He makes it look so simple. Or maybe it's that she makes it so much more complicated on herself than it need be.]

I fail to see how this benefits me. If anything, it is only making you look more impressive.

[thegamesafoot]

And when you retire from service? What then? [ A book of postage stamps and a bottle of perfume are added to the pile. ] Or are you betting on a battlefield death—as glorious as it is untimely—and an afterlife spent in the tournaments of Elysium?

[ His brows twitch slightly upward at her second comment. This is impressive? Has she seen what the rest of the Reverein citizenry can do? Still, Sholmes says nothing to that effect, always happy to dazzle and delight. ]

Well, allow me to continue impressing you while I remain coherent enough to do so. [ A handful of toothpicks, a whistle, and a pause to give it a quick toot. ] Do let me know if I begin to grow incorporeal, will you?

[ The great detective, replaced by a pile of imaginary trash. What an appropriate ignominious end. ]

[roseofmay]

[Retirement. Beatrix has never even considered such a thing, which Herlock picks up on almost immediately. She doesn't have any thoughts about Elysium or any other afterlife, which likely means she hasn't thought much about that either, but...]

I would find more honour in dying on the battlefield.

[There's no reason for her to hide that. What use is there in being a soldier if she... suddenly could no longer fight? She's been on this particular road long enough that she doubts she could just do something different.

Instead of arguing it, however, she watches him add to his ever growing pile of rubbish and Beatrix shakes her head.]

I do not think that is necessary, Master Sholmes. Have you not made your point clear? Not to say that the imagination is infinite, but that clearly our ability to create and develop things in this very... innovative way is not something that ought to be undervalued. [Or underestimated as he has so expertly demonstrated.] I was serious when I said I did not wish to put you in harm's way. It is very likely that everyone has a different threshold for the amount of dreamotion they can use. You must use yours frequently to make all of this seem so effortless.

[thegamesafoot]

There's a certain romance to being cut down in one's prime, isn't there? Better than becoming a doddering pensioner, I suppose. [ He shrugs noncommittally. Maybe because he's not a lone bachelor anymore and at least a handful of people would prefer that he live to a ripe old age. ]

And you're quite right. We need a much larger sample size to glean any useful information from this dreamotion business. Perhaps I can design a proper experiment ... [ And maybe, you know, have Dr. Mikotoba on stand-by if anyone passes out. Sholmes throws a last hair brush on the pile. A few of the bottom items have since popped out of existence, leaving the others to roll and settle.

He gives a low, thoughtful hum. ] In regards to your own dreamotion ... Maybe it's a matter of adrenaline? You've trained yourself to think quickly, creatively in the heat of a fight? This [ A wave at the quiet grounds. ] does not activate your deepest instincts.

[roseofmay]

[Romance is not how she would put it, but it’d kind of hard to argue against that. There are no shortage of stories in Alexandria about knights dying in glorious battles. That glory is very much the reason many people enlist in that kind of servitude, after all. Given how finite life is back home, many simply wish to leave their mark on the world. Beatrix is hardly any different in that respect, even if she might not necessarily openly admit to that.

She thinks to address his idea of a ‘proper’ experiment, whatever he might be considering such. Mostly to ask if he’s capable of devising just such a thing. Before she gets far enough to even insert a word about it, however, his ever-fluttering mind is off onto the next theory. That too is almost impressive. She too is a thinker, though perhaps not nearly as much in the same way.

He gestures to the grounds and there’s logic in his theory. Her best thinking comes from being in the heat of a situation. It is not that Beatrix cannot strategise. She can. But feeling is something that comes from a reaction to something else. It stands to reason that she would have difficulty simulating the experience when she has little to compare it to. These quieter moments are nothing in comparison to a more drastic circumstance.]

That is a possibility. I had not considered it previously. You are right that in moments like these, the more ‘peaceful’ moments we have, the situation is different. Devising a tactic for handling something is a great deal different.

[It is also entirely possible that Beatrix overthinks and she would be very willing to buy that she’s the one standing in her own way of progression on the dreamotion front.]

[thegamesafoot]

It may well be that you are best served by throwing yourself into terrible danger, General! [ This is declared with fresh glee. ] There your dreamotion may truly blossom.

[ Sholmes' fickle concentration is neatly derailed by this new train of thought, as evidenced by the shrinking pile of trinkets. ] Would that I could conjure up a bit of trouble for you, but I doubt I could pull such a thing from my pockets. Besides, the most compelling peril is naturally-occurring. Organic.

[ He rocks on his heels, and considers all the danger the dream world has to offer. Noctaere, noctasers, all manner of nightmares. Plenty of fodder for her practice. ] Given time, Songerein will surely provide, and I've no doubt you'll rise to the challenge.

[roseofmay]

I do have an appreciation for danger.

[It's something she'll have to consider. When faced with adversity, Beatrix doesn't have the ability to simply stop and think, or overthink, or analyse excessively. She can only act and sometimes that is most beneficial for dreamotion, given it's a moment she can't stand in her own way. Perhaps that applies to other avenues of her life as well.]

I was not expecting you to simulate any danger, admittedly. Even if you had, it would not be effective. The thought, however, is... appreciated. [No matter how awkwardly she might express that gratitude.] Still, you are not wrong. Whether I want it or not, this world will provide us dire situations. I will be sure to let you know what I find out, Master Sholmes. Although, what you have shown me today has been educational and enlightening. Think you will be interested in helping me some more in the future?

[thegamesafoot]

And I have a certain knack for finding danger. [ Much to the chagrin of his associates. He rubs his chin, muttering: ] Or perhaps it finds me? The data is still inconclusive.

[ He gives those lingering shields another rap of his knuckles. ]

But please do let me know of your discoveries! It's always fascinating to see precisely how dreamotion evolves in the individual. And we would all be well-advised to know the strengths of our fellow citizens—it may prove most valuable in times of trouble.

[ Or this is just another excuse for him to be nosy. ]