[open/dream recording] ⚔️ go to bed barok

[discourtesies]

Who: Barok van Zieks and you!
Which: Open log & dream recording (you can't make me make two posts)
Where: An ominous treehouse; shopping district; your dream lantern
What: Spooky dreamotion practice; shopping; nightmare
Warnings: drinking, injury. spoiler free prompts!

A

[Although the situation with Asogi has (somewhat) resolved, the young man has taught him a valuable lesson indeed regarding this world and the danger inherent in a place so affected by the thoughts and feelings of those who live in it—or can even change entirely based on some unknown force, if what he's heard about this last "dreamscape" is true. Plus, the fact that a bottle with a particular label appears as soon as he turns his thoughts to his usual vintage is a piece of evidence he can't deny.

When he feels adequately dulled to the usual hypervigilance and his disdain for how ridiculous magically summoning ghosts sounds, he steps out onto the deck of his chosen lodgings and turns his mind to the idea. What even brought that about? It was only a brief moment, although he'd been taken by surprise to the point that...]

What, then? Imagine I'm about to die?

[That sounds like a grand time. Still, what does he have to lose? A few hours of failed distractions or inadequate sleep at worst?

In the late hours of a few nights in a row, a treehouse perched particularly high among the branches has gathered an even sharper chill than Reverein's current autumn evenings, and the white frost spread along the trunk and walls makes the gathering shadows all the more obvious, blacked out even where the moonlight should illuminate.

The silhouette of the man leaning against the railing above is occasionally eclipsed by something much larger like a hooded figure in a robe, a momentary flash of something reflective held above it—but it only ever remains for seconds at a time before disappearing. Also of note is the occasion or two where—when no one is close enough to be hit—a bottle of wine is thrown to the ground with an echoing crash as if its contents have become offensive to the owner... and the resultant scattering of bats who've decided this dark tree would make for an excellent new home.

Sheesh, all it needs now is a thunderclap.]

[ooc: please feel free to hear his muttering and interrupt him or spin something else off the prompt!]

B

[Unbeknownst to Barok, his nightly efforts have led his semi-sentient tree to turn down the temperature to a particularly uncomfortable freezing, and thus he finds himself in need of... extra insulation. So he makes his way out to the markets, his high-collared cloak over a much more mundane jacket than usual, a little more prepared for trade this time:

His first stop includes Madame Blackbird's shop, where he deposits his torn, bloody clothing for either repair or replication—but she doesn't seem to be interested in the bottle of wine he's attempting to offer in exchange. Instead, she seems to be asking for the retrieval of something, and he shakes his head.]

I can't promise I'd be able to fulfill that request any time soon.

[His second is a bit less intentional, when he gets dragged into an eccentric hatter's after accepting the offer of tea, where he then gets drawn into a conversation about, among other things, the merits of a good top hat. When someone else gets brought into the conversation, whether by will or by force...]

A gentleman should hardly leave his home without a hat. [Should the newcomer be more feminine, however, he follows up:] ... and a lady would surely find use of one in this weather.

[And for the rest, he searches for any makers of the very essential blankets, or quilts, or really any large piece of cloth that might help stave off the cold. There's only so many of those he can carry without looking ridiculous and having a bit of trouble, though.

There are times he leans a bit heavily on his walking stick, or seems to take an especially long break to sit somewhere, his frozen scowl unable to fully hide his exhaustion.]

C dream recording;

[The dream begins in a mundane way: Lord van Zieks standing in the grand courtroom of the Old Bailey, a trial nearing its end. The pounding of the judge's gavel echoes through the room, the weight of his verdict the subject of chattering amongst the gallery. The prosecutor turns to leave, his job done—despite the fact that the defendant was declared not guilty. The accused is free, but only for now. Soon, after all, the Reaper's curse will fall upon them, as is the fate of all who try to escape the judgment of van Zieks. It's far from an uncommon occurrence.

But when the heavy doors close behind him and the muttering is muffled, he becomes aware that something is off. A gilded collar lies around his neck, its decorated edges sharp enough to cut his fingers when he tries to pull it off. He hisses with displeasure, gritting his teeth as he looks down at the scratches.]

What—

[But it strikes him that he already knows what. A chain suddenly yanks him forward by that collar, and he trips over his own boots, landing harshly not on the polished floors of the courthouse, but a barren patch of dirt. A line of graves stands before him once he looks up, stretching out across the cemetery, numbered sixteen in total. No—seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty... Barok's gaze hardens into a glare as he raises himself on his hands, but when he mutters lowly to himself, his voice wavers.]

The world is a better place without them...

[He loses count—or simply gives up counting. When he looks down, he sees that his hands are caked in dried mud. Before him, there's a grave open and waiting for a corpse, and another headstone that he hadn't noticed—carved with his own name. So fixated on that sight and the dread that freezes him in place, he doesn't see the figure that looms behind and raises a weapon to strike him.

The blow is swift once it comes down, and the prosecutor crumples into the hole that he'd apparently dug himself, icy eyes still wide with shock. Above, the figure immediately begins to bury him, and he can do nothing—except wonder if this is the fate he's earned. The last sensation he has is of the warmth of his lifeblood seeping into the cold soil before his vision goes black...]

[ooc: Got something else you want? Let me know at lumieresdedragon !]

Comments

b

[buriedvigil]

[van Zieks will be glad-- okay, maybe less irritated, to see Vigil walking around as his usual self. He's been dressing up as Gossip less frequently, although he still plans on putting on that role eventually. It's just trying to get used to this world is taking its own toll on him, not to mention that earning a wage isn't on the forefront of his mind for once.

It's by mere coincidence, at least on Vigil's part, that he spots the exhausted prosecutor just sitting on the bench. It's so mundane, but the former warder supposes that even the Reaper of the Bailey has to sit sometime. Part of him is tempted to just leave the man alone, actually, most of him is-- but there's something that's been on his mind since speaking with Miss Susato.

And guess it wouldn't hurt to simply ask how the man is doing. He can see how tired he is despite the frigidity of his posture.

......

Okay, deep breath, and time to go over to him.]

Lord van Zieks, good afternoon. [...] How have you been faring?

[discourtesies]

[Van Zieks notices Vigil soon enough, only willing to let his guard down for moments at a time before taking a renewed look at his surroundings. And in fact, it's immediately clear that the both of them have noticed each other... with neither moving or saying anything for several awkward seconds. Barok has nearly brushed off the man as intent on avoiding him by the time he actually approaches, but he straightens up where he sits when the former warden reaches conversational distance.]

Well enough.

[There's no need to drag this man into things as they are currently, and thus no reason for any details. Asogi has been informed of what he needs to know, and Barok's injuries are healing, however... uncomfortably.

He almost leaves it at that. There's an inordinately long pause.]

... And you, Mr. Vigil?

[buriedvigil]

[Vigil has some doubts about van Zieks really being okay; the walking stick is a rather clear indication that he's probably on the recovery still. However, there's no way he's going to bring that up and besides, the prosecutor is clearly taking care of himself... to whatever degree this is. Guess as long as he's not jumping around and scaring young children or something, it's fine.

.....

He knows the question is mostly asked out of courtesy, but Vigil still plans to respond in a truthful manner. He nods, looking off to the side for a moment, before giving him a more direct answer.]

I've been faring well, thank you. ...May I take a seat?

[discourtesies]

[wow vigil, as if you don't frighten children with that horrific disguise of yours.

Barok eyes the other man with scrutiny for several moments, wondering what his intent may be—his instinct says there must be a reason, and he would rather know that reason before agreeing to anything. It's certainly not a kind look, and Vigil may find it the sort of gaze one might wither under.

... But no. Things don't necessarily need to be like that here, do they? Even with the clear danger of... certain things, there's no government intrigue or assassination plots happening here. The furrow in his brow loses its intensity as he turns his eyes to a nearby street corner, and he gestures briefly, almost halfheartedly, towards the open seat with one gloved hand.]

It's a public bench.

[buriedvigil]

[wow excuse u kids love the floppy lip

Why does it feel like he's being prosecuted just for asking a simple question..... but to his credit, Vigil doesn't start running off or offering to change his mind, even though he feels that icy gaze pierce straight through him. If van Zieks doesn't want him to sit, then he'll stand and have this conversation. A certain thing has been bothering him and while he could probably ask Miss Susato, he thinks that the Reaper would not cut any corners when telling him the truth.

He lets out a breath that he doesn't realize he's been holding, before moving forward to take that empty seat next to Barok. Vigil allows a few seconds of silence to pass between them, mostly to gather his thoughts and get the courage to speak up.]

When we first met here, you knew immediately that I was... myself, and not Gossip.

A

[mychosenpath]

[Under most circumstances, Ryunosuke tries to make it a rule not to be out wandering too late at night-- but having just returned, he finds himself doing his best to get back up to speed and quickly; resulting in quite possibly one of the busiest days he's had here since his initial arrival. Fortunately there haven't been a great number of mishaps or disasters yet like there were back then. But the excitement of it all has certainly made just going back home and going to bed a little more difficult.

It's a nice night, honestly. And good for a short stroll. At least-- it seemed so before that walk took him into the area of a particularly... daunting house. He hears the unsettling noise of wings as something seems to take flight as he gets near.

Were those BATS? They didn't get too close, but he's pretty sure he didn't just imagine that. He's pretty sure he wouldn't just imagine that. It's enough to get him to look up... and up, and up-- jeez, someone really wanted to be up there, huh? He can't help but slow to a stop. It's hard to see but there's definitely someone up there. But before he can get a better look--

That's when he sees it. A large, cloaked figure and a glint of something-- it's enough to send his heart straight into his throat.]

L-look out!!

[With no time to think about the details and a fair bit of knowledge about how dangerous even seemingly harmless entities could prove to be here, Ryunosuke decides to do the only thing he can think of on such short notice and that's to take off his shoe and throw it as hard as he can to try and hit the shadowy apparition.]

1/2

[discourtesies]

[So intent on his efforts, van Zieks mistakes the footsteps for the chittering of bats, and when his conjuring has almost succeeded and he feels on the verge of grasping some actual semblance of the specter's power—

He's snapped out of his concentration with the cry of a familiar voice, and clocked in the face with a shoe.]

Ghk!

[The reaper-like figure vanishes completely, and thanks to the shock and being somewhat tipsy, van Zieks stumbles and lands with a thud on the deck. He isn't drunk enough for this... yet.]

2/2

[discourtesies]

[After a few brief seconds, though, he does manage to sit up and lean between the railings to display his aggravation with a proper scowl, teeth grit and bare hands grasping the wood.]

What is it with you Nipponese and your tendency to attack without provocation?!

[He's been trying to get past the grudge. Sorry, it slipped out.]

[mychosenpath]

[Suddenly, it comes rushing back. Ryunosuke understands exactly what that daunting atmosphere was and why it felt so familiar. Sure he'd hoped to be able to see Lord van Zieks again when he left Britain but-- he wasn't expecting it to be so soon. And certainly not under... these... circumstances.

He's pretty sure all the blood just drained out of his face. He's pretty sure it would drain itself right out of his body if it could. He waves his hands frantically, shaking his head as he tries his best to spit out a response quickly, before the prosecutor got the wrong idea... more than he had already caused by his poor aim.]

I-I'm sorry!! I thought-- it looked like you were being attacked, so--

[...now that he mentions it, he realizes that the cloaked figure was nowhere to be seen. He'd definitely have noticed if it had tried to jump. But no... it was like it... just vanished.]

[discourtesies]

[Like he was being attacked? As Barok rubs the sore bridge of his nose, he manages to put together the likely scenario. His own eyes were closed just moments ago, but when he initially manifested that thing, it had hovered immediately over him, looming with a blade in hand. To an outsider, unaware of the ghost's intent...

Hmph, well. Maybe.

What does van Zieks do when confronted with a situation where his outbursts are unwarranted? Related question: does he seem like a well-adjusted man? He simply makes a noise of disgust. At himself. Ryunosuke is free to interpret it as pointed at him instead.]

Perhaps I should be grateful you had no other weapon at your disposal.

[At this point, he pulls himself up to his feet instead of continuing to sit on the wooden slats, and the traces of his magic attempts gradually fade, frost beginning to thaw and the shadows returning to their normal shade. His steps remove him from Naruhodo's view, as if he simply intends to walk away and ignore the man... until:

THUNK goes the bottom of a ladder nearby, suddenly dropping against the ground as if unfolded by a mechanism. Is it a threat or an invitation...?]

[mychosenpath]

[He can't help the chill that runs through his body. He's not keen to mention he does have one, only that he was at least smart enough not to try and use it for something as reckless as this. If only he'd thought it through a bit further and realize that cautionary feeling meant he probably shouldn't be throwing anything.]

Not as grateful as I am...

[The THUNK of the ladder makes him jump. Without proper warning it certainly feels more like a threat. But he knows better.

...and he really does need his shoe back. Something he's probably only going to get back by going up and retrieving it from the man himself. Taking a deep breath, he slowly ascends the ladder, up into the prosecutor's home. It's a bit of an awkward climb, but he tries to move as quickly as he can without risking a fall.

For how nervous he was coming up here, that certainly doesn't stop him from looking around once he's made it up safely.]

B

[judicialassistant]

[ Susato can be seen ever-so-casually stumbling out of a jewelry shop like the teenage girl she is. If she appears a little shaken up, it is 100% because of the store keepers' sheer height, making saying no to them possibly the bravest thing she's ever done.

Despite how beautiful everything was, she looks relieved to be out of there. She resolves to work up the courage to go back another time, and maybe actually find something she likes this time.

Before she can get too far, though, she spots van Zieks, sitting on a nearby bench with his walking stick propped beside him. She gasps and quickly bows, remembering her manners. ]

Lord van Zieks! Hello... How are you faring?

[discourtesies]

[That is an interesting look he notices on her face before she turns to her typical polite greeting; it's not the sort of look a girl would typically wear after stepping out of a shop with such accessories. He'd expect disappointment more than relief, but then he hasn't stepped inside himself...

Van Zieks only nods his head briefly in reply to her bow, rather than standing and offering responding in kind. He doesn't think she'll mind.]

As well as can be expected.

[He hasn't talked to anybody with healing magic, and the idea sure hasn't occurred to him. It's fine though; he's tired and understandably hurting, but he's not... any paler than usual, and he can hold himself up straight. He's still taking great pains to maintain his appearance, even if he's having to wear less tailored clothing.]

Browsing... I take it? [What he saw in that shop's front didn't seem like anything essential.]

[judicialassistant]

[ Susato doesn't mind. In fact, the response is pretty much exactly what she's come to expect from van Zieks. She looks him over with a soft expression, nodding in sympathy--which also happens to answer his question.

Her eyes glance back towards the store front for a moment. ]

Ah. Yes... I was simply curious about the different styles they have. I believe they call it "window shopping," but... [ Phew... ] I'm afraid they are rather persistent.

...And... tall.

[discourtesies]

[Persistent sounds typical enough, and if they double-teamed an unsuspecting potential customer, he can see why she'd find that intimidating. The other thing, though... seems a little odd for her to bring up, from where he's sitting.]

One would think you'd be accustomed to dealing with "tall."

[She did spend several months in London.]

[judicialassistant]

[ ...... Mmkay. He's not wrong, and he still gets pity points for sure, being in the condition he's in. Susato sighs, as if she's never heard that one before. ]

Not like this. Not when they are quite easily twice my size, and look at me as if...

[ Prey? Is prey too strong a word? She trails off, but turns back to van Zieks. ]

... You know, I could introduce you if you like.

[ Is she joking... The world may never know. ]

A

[rokubro]

[After a night of much needed training after his loss to Kazuma, Rokurou is making his way back home when he happens to be close enough to witness the bottle of wine being tossed out and thrown to the ground, it's contents spilling out.]

Ouch, I'm not much of a wine drinker, but even I would say that's a waste. [He steps closer, stopping down to pick up the remnants to try and make out the label before looking up to where it had come from.]

Was it that bad?

[discourtesies]

[... Who the hell is this guy?

Although loud enough to be heard despite the distance his voice is something of a gravelly mutter; he's had a few drinks already despite the apparent disposal of the bottle, labeled with a grim reaper wielding two scythes—because of course it is. Van Zieks never does things by halves when it comes to his image, apparently.]

The vintage... was fine.

[Alas, poor dream-wine. The browning, frosty grass and tree roots will have to enjoy the last of it.]

My efforts at this... dream sorcery are what fail to live up to my expectations.

[rokubro]

Wait—you made this?

[Whatever else Barok said just completely goes through out his ear as he looks up.]

Hold on, I'm heading up there. I have got to see this!

[And before Barok can even protest, Rokurou is finding his way up, even if it means jumping.]

[discourtesies]

[Rokurou is going to have to climb, jump or both, because the sole ladder leading up to the treehouse is currently retracted. For safety. Or so he thought.]

What—

[So much for finding a better location! What the hell, people can just jump into trees now?!]

You are not invited!

[He's not even properly decorated to host visitors yet!!!]

[rokubro]

[Yep, nothing stopping this daemon!]

Don't worry, I won't stay for long.

[And yes, it is very much too late, Barok, as Rokurou climbs up and then hops up easily to where he is.]

A - Time will not stop me.

[roseofmay]

[Nights leave Beatrix restless. They come without sleep, without dreams wrapped within dreams, so often when others ought to be taking what respite they can, she often patrols around the other areas. It's not that she's looking for anything in particular. It's not that she even wants to see anything specifically. Although things might be a little livelier if she had something she could throw herself at.

In a way, she's almost thankful for the quiet she's often met with. It gives her time to think and reflect. To consider her actions back home, what she's come from, how she's come to be where she is now. What kind of person she is when she doesn't have a queen making demands of her. It's occurred to her since arrival that Beatrix, for all of her hardened exterior, has somewhere along the lines, forgotten what it's like to be an individual for an individual's sake. She has hidden behind the comforts of obligation and duty. Having neither of them here, she finds herself on a blank map with no idea what direction in which to turn.

The sound of a voice catches her. Were it the day, he'd easily be drowned in the ambience. In the otherwise silence of the night, he is quite possibly far more noticeable than he likely wants to be. She can't quite make out what he's saying, but it's a voice she's heard before.

It takes her some moments to put the pieces together. And then—]

...Cat?

[Because it occurs to her she never got that cat's name. But he had a very distinct voice that she doubts she'll be missing anytime soon.]

[discourtesies]

[Van Zieks is snapped out of his thoughts when the woman's voice reaches his years, and he turns his attention downward to see... ah, yes.

It's only then that the actual word she spoke registers, and he brings a bare hand over his face in exasperation, holding back a heavy sigh. After the thought of having cat paws is forced to the forefront of his mind, he's not going to be able to focus on anything grim any time soon.]

... as you can see, that's no longer the case.

[Even from this distance, surely—his pale complexion stands out well enough in the moonlight even under the trees, any unnatural shadow drawn from his darker thoughts having faded already.]

[roseofmay]

[Yes. She can clearly see that. Well. Maybe not clearly. Enough that there's a very distinct difference between the form he had in the dollhouse and the form he's in now.

Beatrix remained rooted to where she stands, only turning just so to get a better look from her point.]

Is that what you really look like, then.

[Sounded stuffy as a cat. Looks relatively stuffy as a not!cat. She can't judge, however. She wouldn't consider herself a member of Alexandrian's nobility in the slightest and yet she still carries airs that might imply otherwise.]

The cat may have been an improvement.

[...Beatrix joking. What world have they come to that this would ever be considered possible. Almost certainly it is her time with Zidane that has paved the way for this.]

[discourtesies]

[(damage noise)

Unfortunately for him, his level of inebriation isn't conducive to keeping his reactions internal rather than external, and the hiking up of his shoulders and clenching of a hand around the railing shows well enough that the comment may have hit a sensitive spot.]

It was quite enough to refer to me as an animal.

[And thus the trend of being insulted to his face continues... At least he can solve one of the problems at hand. Almost defensively:]

My name is van Zieks.