songerein | [open/dream recording] ⚔️ go to bed barok

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[open/dream recording] ⚔️ go to bed barok

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 !]

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[ Susato offers a small smile. She never knew he could do something like that, but somehow it isn't too big of a surprise. The adrenaline finally wearing off, her hands seem to stop shaking. ]

I had a feeling there would be something. [ Something up his sleeve, but fine, she'll chill with the magic references, since he seems to find it so disagreeable. ] You respectable lawyer types always find something when your back is against the wall, don't you?

...But I won't put you in that position again. [ She promises. Honest. ]

[The idea that he had his back against the wall in the first place is enough for him to narrow his eyes. As if he wasn't completely in control of the situation...!]

Resourcefulness is a quality any sensible person would cultivate, regardless of their profession.

[At her reassurance—well, Susato is many things, he's learned, but...]

We shall see if you're a lady of your word. [(x) Doubt. But he doesn't sound too displeased; he just has to be ready for the next time as well.

He glances down at the coats, one of which she's apparently chosen for herself. Maybe she's acquired a preference for more masculine clothing, after her moment of disguise?] ...Or perhaps a gentleman of your word?

[ rjfklsjdl THAT WAS ONE TIME, DAD!! Susato had forgotten that she told him about that, and a slight embarrassed blush to her cheeks appears. She'd probably be waving her arms if they weren't full. ]

N-No! No, "Ryutaro" is... permanently retired. [ Then, she catches his gaze fall upon her red coat. Oh... ] ...I just wanted to match with you, obviously.

[ ...She recovers quickly, doesn't she? ]

[Was it though??? With her tenacity, he could absolutely see it being a thing that could happen again—but if she insists, then...

...

what]

... why?

[There is no comprehension in his gaze or tone at all—even less than he understood her desire to ferry his shopping about town. Why would she want to "match with him"??]

[ Oh, he... actually wanted an answer. Of course he does. It's Lord van Zieks, after all. She... She wasn't just kidding or anything, no. ]

To see that bewildered look you're giving me right now... perhaps?

[ Like. Is that a good enough reason on the van Zieks scale of......reasons...? ]

[So he's being made fun of. No, of course, he should have expected as much. Harrumph...]

If you have no plan to answer my questions truthfully, I'd prefer you say nothing at all.

[His response is defensive, but the usual cutting edge to his voice is dulled. He's just embarrassed.]

[ In a lingering instant, the smile disappears from her face, replaced by something more serious. A pang of guilt twisted gently in her stomach, like maybe she'd went too far, but she stood with whatever confidence she could muster. ]

But I am being truthful. I merely spoke in jest... I have no good answer.

[ She could have just said that--? ]

It is the first time I've ever purchased something different for myself to wear, even in my year in London. I don't know what other reasons people may think about, other than, "it looks just like yours," or, "this looks warm."

[ In other words: preferences?? How does one choose those? ]

[She could have just said that—

... to have one's appearance decided by others, hm. He really only began to think of such choices once he went to university, and even then he'd tried so hard to emulate his brother. And after... well, that feels a little too personal to get into at this point.

His remark, as a result, is simply a half-muttered:]

I cannot imagine how you survived the winter.

Heh. [ She can't tell if she was actually meant to hear that, or whether or not he expected an answer. The truth was, Iris helped her in that department, but even she couldn't completely convince her to defy tradition. Just enough to keep her warm.

...She could really use more girlfriends her age. With that merely a passing thought in her mind, she decides to shift her focus back to the task at hand. ]

Blankets next, was it?

... Yes.

[Yeah, speaking of surviving the winter.]

Let us find a less... particular vendor.

[Normal shopping from this point, please! Or as normal as they can get in a dream world...]

Agreed. Reasonable exchanges only... no epic quests across town.

[ And absolutely no assassin look-alikes.

Hardly feeling their weight of Barok's things anymore, her boots click as she walks, keeping an eye out for anything that might look like it has bedding. Pillows, pillow cases... fluffy things.

Her eyes happen upon a shop that seems to have a sky theme to it, the cloud imagery catching her eye. ]

[Van Zieks slows when he sees that her attention has turned, and he follows her gaze to the shop, scrutinizing it for a few moments before saying anything.

It... seems... harmless. Famous last words.]

... Shall we take a look?

[ Susato was already about to suggest they stop, but she concedes the honor to van Zieks. ]

Of course.

...Do you happen to need pillows as well?

[ Don't worry, though. They appear to have rather thick-looking comforters on display, too. Maybe they're not quite as specifically catered to him this time, though. ]

[~~It's fine, even if they have a fluffy sky theme that doesn't suit him, he can just dreamotion them into goth aesthetic, that's how it works right? Right.~~ As long as they're comfortably warm, he'll make do with what he can get. It's not like he plans to invite anyone into his lodgings to see them, anyway.]

I wouldn't be opposed to a few more, should the exchange be reasonable.

[A nobleman can never have too many pillows...]

[ Maybe it's Susato that's the problem. Maybe they're trying to cater to her this time, because between the sky theme, sheep, and fluffy bunnies, it's kind of starting to feel like it somewhat.

But then, as if meeting somewhere in the middle, she spots something a little more neutral. The colors, at least, seem to lean towards him. ]

...How about sleeping among the stars?

[ Super romantic, actually. She kind of wants. But no. Bad Susato. You already got (1) Thing too many, with the jacket. Let Lord van Zieks decide. ]

[Ah, to be a sentimental teenage girl... in a shop that does, in fact, seem much more suited to her demographic than his own. The place gives off an air of saccharine comfort that makes Barok want to narrow his eyes, as if offended to be offered such things. Even the darker set Susato directs her attention to seems both too much and not enough.

Van Zieks reminds himself that beggars can't be choosers, but still... his eyes move over the pieces, like he's judging each one in turn, until his gaze settles on another celestial-themed spread. Rather than agreeing to her sentiment, he simply lets out a brief hm of vague interest.]

[ Wow, tough crowd.

Not that Susato seems offended, or even expected anything different. The set that seems to have caught his attention seems slightly more colorful and less realistic--there are even faces on the suns, for crying out loud--but she doesn't seem to judge. She slowly comes up behind him and follows his gaze to the bed, and then back to his face, very deep in thought. ]

...I bet you could lie on it. I don't think they'll mind.

[ Why else would the bed be on display? Juuuust. Saying. ]

[When van Zieks turns his gaze to the young woman at her suggestion, there's not even a hint of the notion that he might humor her. These things aren't proper......]

Perhaps you would like to judge it for yourself.

[Go ahead. Embarrass yourself in public, Susato. Be his guest.]

[ Excuse you, sir, she is not the one looking for new bedding??

Susato doesn't say no, but she doesn't exactly jump at the invitation either, although it is very tempting. She simply shrugs instead, looking off to the side as if she's a little embarrassed. ]

It doesn't matter if I like it...

[ But it's fine. Lord van Zieks is free to choose based on whatever criteria pleases him. ]

[Uh huh. That's what he thought. The briefest of huffs leaves his nose.

He does stride over to the bed in question, though, but only to judge the warmth of the set with his hands rather than the rest of him. As he's testing the thickness of the comforter, he speaks without looking at her:]

Are you in need of anything here?

[ If it were ever possible to roll your eyes, but only within your mind, Susato is doing it now at his little huff. It takes her a moment to even realize he is even addressing her, and she turns back quickly. ]

Hm? [ Of course he's not even looking at her. ] Oh... no, father and I are fine for now. The decision is all yours.

[... well, alright then. Barok will keep his thoughts on his own purchase, and this errand will hopefully be over soon so he can stop worrying about losing an extremity to frostbite. Unfortunate that he should be injured at such a time as now when he needs so many things and has only so many ways to pay for things. Legal advice isn't helpful in a place without laws, or else he'd be considering finding some magician to enchant these with extra warmth...]

This should suffice.

[He too will manage for the time being.]

[ Susato nods her understanding and approval, and calls the attention of the store clerk, though van Zieks is perfectly capable doing so himself. She is definitely seeing through helping him to the end, and she's determined not to have a repeat of what happened at Madame Blackbird's.

Moments later, when they are back outside with all his items, she does a quick check to make sure neither of them have left anything. ]

This is a good start, I feel. We can always return before the weather worsens.

[ Is Barok really okay with Susato knowing where he lives, though? Probably not, but it doesn't seem like she's giving him much of a choice if she can help it. Oops. ]

[This "we" business... although he's begrudgingly grateful for the assistance, he doesn't intend for it to continue being a thing. He'll heal soon enough.]

At such a time I shall be able to manage my own errands.

[One thing at a time will perhaps serve his needs better. When he decides he needs an additional item, he'll simply go out to find one, rather than trying to do everything at once.

Susato knowing where he lives isn't a problem, necessarily... rather, an annoyance at worst. The real issue will be getting everything up the ladder to his very high residence. A bag would have been a decent idea, he realizes now that he's put his thoughts to returning.]

...... [ Well, she doesn't doubt that Barok would have recovered by then. Still, she seems to give a very curious, knowing look back at him as she tilts her head. ] Hmm. Give me just a moment.

[ Then, as if she's forgotten something, she slips right back into the store where they just were.

A few minutes later when she reappears, all of Barok's belongings are in proper bags. The comforter set remains neatly folded therein; even his new coat(s) are properly on hangers and protected from the elements.

Mikotoba mindreading at its finest. ]

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