hadriel_logs | Event Log: That's My Rubber Ducky

1. Imported housing area.

Caedra, of course, does not sleep. She finds the nights pleasant enough, when most of the other creatures in this world have done that silly thing mortals do and go unconscious for several hours. An ideal time to collect her thoughts, to do some writing, or in the case of tonight, to do a bit of exploring around the perimeter of the city, where a variety of monstrosities lurk at the corners of her vision, watching and waiting while she does the same. Some of them are entirely familiar - she knows for a fact that she spotted a Manticore once, as it tucked its wings in a stoop past one of the great dunes, and slipped into some deep crevasse in the landscape, possibly in the pursuit of other prey. This is reassuring to her - the intersection and alignment of the planes that allows this place to be must not have brought her in alone from the worlds she is familiar with.

After the night's foray into wilderness, she returns in the early morning to the home she has claimed for herself. She shrugs off the satchel she managed to find in one of the stores - the material is strange to her, and who makes a lime-green shoulder bag anyway - and then stops in the living room, looking at the coffee table, because what is that? A sleek device, with little holes along its sides. Are those hinges? Is this some sort of strange book?

Worse, if this thing just appeared while she was out, someone had been in here, uninvited. She doesn't hear breathing or footsteps but she summons her sword just in case, as she searches the rooms for any sign of intrusion - or if she's lucky, the culprit themselves. She has bottles, now. These gods may have found a way to prevent her from eating the souls of her kills, but she can still find uses for their flesh and blood, the only other use mortals hold for her.

But no sign, no trace, of anything missing, no footprints, nothing left behind. And sadly, no fragile little idiot hiding in her closet, hoping not to be discovered.

Shaking her head, she keeps her sword drawn as she traces Abyssal symbols in the air with the tip of its blade as she chants phrases that cover her home in a veil of illusions. She should have done this long ago. It takes some time to complete the casting, but when she is done, she steps out onto the balcony and nods in satisfaction, seeing her work.

To all others, it now appears that the building she has claimed is surrounded by a dense thicket of dark, thorned vines, growing over jagged rocks with impossibly sharp edges. It is the opposite of inviting.

It's also not real in the slightest, and interacting with the illusion will reveal that it is just an illusion after all. But it sure does send a pretty clear message, doesn't it?

Now then. That settled, it's time to see what this strange object is, as she sits down and carefully tries to open up the laptop.

2. Any time, anywhere.

At first Caedra had thought perhaps the object she had discovered was a sort of scrying tool. Nice. But the 'network' - which she is slowly learning to use, fumbling her way through reading the messages, not quite ready to post anything of her own just yet - has started to receive notes from a few others about mystery items arriving, of people having glimpses at the lives of others.

Not nice.

Normally she can sense a scrying attempt, though they have been exceptionally rare - she's the one who does the spying while hidden away at the Garden of Thorns. So few who would gain from trying to watch her even know of her existence. But there's no feeling of being watched, no little tracking orb following her around. Nonetheless, paranoia strikes. If someone has an object that lets them spy on her, then she needs to know. She needs to retrieve it immediately, and find out what that person managed to learn.

She shoulders her bag and throws the weird new machine in - once again receiving a flash of a vision from its presumed owner. Perhaps she can hunt him down as well, not that she intends to give this back. It's not that she enjoys watching someone else's private life, but it could be a useful tool in her arsenal. Free undetectable scrying? Yes please.

Before she sets out, she gives herself a foresight casting, as is habit here now that her usual target of its benefits is unreachable. She takes a deep breath as the high hits her, providing its intense clarity. Everything that will happen she knows ahead of time - only by seconds, but sometimes seconds can make all the difference in the world.

Sword in hand, there is one pissed off demon coming out to look for something that's hers. You might be holding it. You might have seen it. She doesn't know what it is, but she wants it back.

• my freakin' shoes - ephemera

Perhaps the greatest tragedy about being here is that her condition prevents her from tanning. Ugh. All this sunshine, and she’s stuck being pale like the dead. Regular brains for meals keep her on the least pale end of the pallor spectrum, but that’s not what she wants. Rita misses her red hair and light skin, her taste buds and normal heartbeat. She misses tasting booze and having sex whenever she wants. She misses her car, her apartment, her money, her clothes.First Vaughn, and now the Door have taken too fucking much from her.

So imagine her surprise when she spots a guy in armor with an extremely familiar pair of high heels in his hands. Shit. Those are definitely hers. Who else could afford them? Nobody here has taste that good, she’s willing to bet.

The closer she gets to him, the more sure she is they’re her shoes. Purpose in her every step, she speeds up a little until she’s close enough to talk to him in a cool, commanding tone.

“Those are mine. Where did you get them?”

• out, damned gore - angus + possibly one other tag-in once i confirm with the player

By the river, Rita kneels on a blanket and gently works at scrubbing the dried blood and gore off her shoe. It’s not going to be easy, but dammit, these are hers. They’re the only thing she has here that she chose, and even though her last memory of them is leaving them at her apartment after surviving her encounter with a Romero, they’re still hers. They’re more than just a fashion statement; they’re a tangible reminder that she’s a survivor and a fighter, and that even if her own flesh and blood abandons her, she’ll make it.

Her eyes are narrowed as she concentrates on her task, alternating between using her fingers and a damp hand towel to accomplish the job. The result is dark red stains of old blood on her hands and the fabric of the towel. At her side lies the other shoe, drying in the sunlight after a quick scrub to get it black and shiny again.

She’s quiet as she works, but that blood sure stands out against her pale skin, doesn’t it?

Edited 2018-03-14 20:25 (UTC)

(( for Komaeda ))

This is one item that won't require much detective work to determine its owner, especially considering that Komaeda is the one to pick it up and will recognize the subject. It's a photo album, documenting the life of a boy with brown hair and a broad smile, from infancy to death. In the early childhood section some photos are cut up as if to remove someone's presence -- likely the other parent, as the only constant presence besides Drake is a woman that's obviously his mother. In general, the photos are unremarkable. Amateur and taken at the usual key points of a person's life. Holidays, birthdays, posing wearing his martial arts medals, dressed up for prom, behind the wheel of his first car, graduating the police academy... and then the only photo Drake isn't actually in, it's just a picture of another picture of him at what looks like a memorial service. Still, there's nothing weird about the images. This could have been anyone's life, a normal life. And despite the fact his hair has turned white in Hadriel, Komaeda will recognize him easily to give it back.

What's decidedly not normal, however, and what might give him pause in returning the item, is what he saw when he first picked it up. A tupperware containing what appears to be a human brain, being removed and put on a cutting board beside pepper and onion. Obviously, being treated as food. The brief vision ends before it's clear what Drake was making, but uh. Does it really matter?

(( for Ephemera ))

Drake had tucked the book away for safekeeping while he was on patrol, but now that he's home for the night (as much as Hadriel has 'night') he actually sits down to look through it. He'd recognized it immediately -- his mother had always been a huge pain about taking pictures for it, and he can still hear her cheerful "That's one for the book!" ringing out from his memory. Hopefully this isn't her actual album from home, he wouldn't want to take that away from her now that he's gone. But he does want to see her again, and these pictures are the only way.

He's just about to open the cover when he hears a key in the lock and startles, hand jerking away from the book and lifting to wipe his eyes, which are a little blurry. Ugh. Suck it up, man.

(( for Jo ))

One good thing that's come out of this awkwardness is that Komaeda's reaction and subsequent offer was the kick Drake needed to finally talk to Jo. It's long overdue, but even though he'd been fairly certain she wasn't going to go all torches and pitchforks on him he knew her opinion of zombies was... extremely low. After making sure she was okay and returning her things he'd just avoided her. Avoided thinking about what he'd done, and what he'd seen of her life after doing it. But that was a cop out.

He probably should have just texted, asked if she wanted to meet at the Speakeasy, but that's a little public for the kind of shit they'd probably wind up talking about. So now he's knocking on her door instead, a bag in his other hand, hoping it's not George who answers. She doesn't like him.

[OTA]

[Law's back in town yeah, back to his old routine, which means he's in the clinic most often but also the lab - he has some new ideas inspired by his road trips and wants to check on research progress. Run into him either place, or the Speakeasy if that's more likely. If he finds an object that isn't terribly unusual, he may pick it up out of curiosity - but the flashes of vision are enough to make him drop it like a hot potato. Has he just seen your day?]

[OOC: if you want to mess with his head, mention what he might have seen from your character's POV. If you don't have anyone finding your item yet, hit me up here and we'll work out a scenario. Otherwise, open prompt is open.]

[CLOSED to Maglor]

[unbeknownst to Law, his favorite shirt is somewhere in this godsforsaken city. His special sweatshirt with his Heart Pirates mark on the front and black feathers - homage to Corazon - around the collar. Ordinarily, it would be easy to associate with him, but that's if the finder has ever seen the flag on his wall or the tattoo on his back. It has been some time since he last posted video from his apartment, or gone around shirtless from the heat. The one who picks it up will see few clues to its owner - an open journal with scribbled notes in a random mix of katakana and roman lettering, sketches of anatomy, and the like; Law's tattooed fingers busy about writing or mixing medications; the sun reflecting on the surface of a pool as he waits for signs of fishy life.]

[CLOSED to Kelson]

[The one object which has captured Law's attention entirely is a flask he stumbled upon perched on a damaged wall. Touching it brings the visions, but it's no one he's met. One of the new folks, maybe? Either way, it's what's in the flask he can't resist. He suffers the visions in order to uncork it and give it a sniff. There's something odd about it. This is going to require going to the lab for some testing. At worst, he'll sample it himself and deal with the fallout, if he can work quickly, but...let's not accidentally sample fatal fast-acting poisons, shall we? He's more interested in identifying the contents than finding the owner, which is why he's not immediately posting to the network to ask.]

Edited 2018-03-14 21:18 (UTC)

for Kyna

[Ephemera's coming back from patrol when he spots Kyna, helmet tucked under his arm. It's been a good day. Some decent fighting, no one got maimed, and there's good food waiting for him at home.]

Hey, Kyna. What'd you find?

[She's holding something. It's small enough to fit in her cupped palm. A small metal rose, some of the petals dented where they were welded to--

Ephemera stops. He can hear Daisy's laughter, high and cheerful. How she'd snap her teeth and clap, how she never spoke.]

...where'd you get that?

Open - roof of Spire 4

[Apparently the gods are going for the emotional gut punch right over again. Ephemera leans back against the wall and watches the stars. He's not drunk, but there's a bottle of gin next to him and he's pleasantly buzzed.]

Can't beat the view, huh?

See Tony Skate.

Skate Tony Skate.

Tony has found a skateboard.

He is 47, and does not need to grow up.

I mean please, what would you do if you found one of your favourite childhood toys like it's Christmas morning? So, it belongs to someone else? He knows that much, but whoever it is that owns this was a little busy doing something Tony is intimately familiar with and yet not so keen to interrupt. Not that he knows who exactly it is that was doing the fucking, but eventually he'll call out the brown-eyed, long haired, elf-eared girl who looked like she was having way too much fun for someone stuck in Hadriel and find out who the lucky guy (or girl) was.

Until then, Tony will be taking to the street on the skateboard. With a baseball cap and a hoodie to finish the look off.

[Michael's item is a purple 3DS with a game inside ~~it's totally Animal Crossing~~. The batteries are dead, so unfortunately even someone who knew how to use it wouldn't be able to find a name.

Touching the DS will at first spark a vision of a table, seen through a pair of glasses. Whoever's eyes these are, they seem to be engaged in messy business, using a scalpel and their bare hands to take apart some kind of gelatinous black organ mass. Gross! To make matters even less sanitary, they insist on using their blood-covered fingertip to push their glasses back up whenever they slide.

Anyone familiar with Michael could probably guess who this is, but anyone not familiar may at least recognize the inside of the lab from whenever he happens to look up.

Later visions will include a lot of scrolling through network posts, staring blankly at walls from a sideways position, and, if the item is kept long enough into the evening, Michael finally remembering to eat food.]

♦ drake

[It's morning. Not early, but early enough that the strange dusky purples that accompany their even stranger nighttime hours begin to dissipate into peaches, and golds, fire singing the desolate horizon. Early enough that the shadows are long and the view is a startling one from this high up. It changes ever so slightly when the sunrise's admirer looks down, clearly perched on the edge of a ten-story building, legs hanging over the side. The view changes again: a sketchbook retrieved from somewhere, flipped open to a page with drawings of the distant rock formations stretching dark shapes over the desert. Hands close it, put it away, and push a body up a few more feet.

The run starts.

It isn't the speed but the daring (or stupidity) that makes it unusual, booted feet carrying a person up and over architecture details: a vault past a parapet, skidding down smooth stone coping and leaping from the edge just before hitting open space only to grab the jutting cornice of another building ten feet away with a breathless laugh. A glance below: nothing but faraway streetscapes and a quick scramble upward before the sprint begins again.

The movement is generally calculated, save for the frequent jump that would give an acrophobe heart palpitations, balancing acts on rails of questionable structural integrity. Another big push that looks a hair too far and after catching considerable air the hands clutching a stone window frame slip as the marble splinters and cracks.

He falls.]

Oh sh-

♦ daenerys

[Pretty weird, finding what looks like a decorative flogger sitting on top of a chimney stack.]

Kinky.

[Nate remarks to no one in particular, nudging it with his foot. The out-of-the-way location reminds him a little too much of the kinds of things he tends to stumble across when exploring ancient cities, but he supposes that this urban center registers pretty high in terms of equal parts lost and strange. It's leather - decent quality - with some sort of gold handle and pommel in the shape of a harpy, and the end of each braided strip is tipped with a clawed metal hand. Cat o' nine tails. Yikes.]

...less kinky. Yeesh.

[Crouching, he picks it up. The sensation feels akin to sudden nausea and Nate stumbles, blinking sightlessly as pale, slender arms move about a kitchen counter in front of him. The eyes belong to a woman, determinedly and neatly arranging things to cook while something sizzles in hot oil on the stove. Nate feels his jaw tighten - that thing is a grease fire waiting to happen, flames licking the edges of the pan - and as she turns to drop something else into the attempted culinary endeavor, the oil catches.

Fire explodes from the pan and rockets upward, pushing against the wall and catching on some sort of cluster of dried plants hanging nearby, and the images suddenly fade, leaving him blinking at the middle distance. Several buildings away thick, black smoke begins to pour out of a window.]

Holy crap.

[Nate breaks into a sprint.]

♦ ivar

[It's a day for unanticipated surprises.

Nate finds the knife on a rooftop shortly after defusing - de-flaming? - the situation, and actively experiences a moment of thoughtful hesitation before picking it up. Precedent having shown him what might happen, he isn't certain he wants to come across another fiery emergency when he isn't trained in rescue, but he has the feeling that this "locating an object and then its owner" thing is a trend they're meant to follow through on.

The blade is short, the handle is bone: the latter decorated with little rings that have dots in them. Something simplistic, bands of hatched marks curving around the circumference. A metal hook stuck into one end, for the purposes of strapping it to something else, or maybe decoration. Small weapons - antique weapons - aren't exactly his strong suit, but overall the design feels Nordic (again, not his strong suit). He picks it up.

What Nate sees is another gut-lurching glimpse through someone else's eyes.

What is unexpected is that the view seems to be from floor-level, appliances and apartment amenities looming overhead, hands and arms wrapped with leather straps pulling a figure across the floor. There is a struggle to get upright, to be eased onto a stool with the sort of taut force that suggests the person is accustomed to the disadvantage, but still enough of a crippling detriment to make Nate wish someone would give this guy a wheelchair. Fingers reach out to the handle on the oven to use as a prop, perhaps not realizing it won't serve well in that way, and the grip settles before the door slams open and the person loses their balance. It all flickers out again.]

Let's find your owner, huh?

[He says to the object conversationally, carefully wrapping it in scrap fabric and slipping it into his bag. An hour or so later Nate knows them on sight: the man is sitting just outside the armory in distinctly dated clothing, but it's the buckled straps of leather on his arms that give him away. Jogging up, he waves a hand to grab the guy's attention.]

Hey! Hey, you missing a knife?

Edited 2018-03-15 18:47 (UTC)

one/ when you gonna put your hands up
( One morning, anyone near the vicinity of the study building, near spire 2 and the shops there, will hear a startled yelp coming from an open window in the place.

Really, what else can you expect when the windowsill is suddenly decorated with a severed woman's hand, looking almost perfectly in tact apart from... well, the fact that it's no longer attached to anyone's body. Considering everything, that Serah only yelped in surprise and didn't do anything else is probably a testament to her self-control.

It doesn't mean she isn't a little iffy, a little bit cautious, when picking it up to remove it and-

See something that certainly isn't the study building's interior.

It doesn't take too long for Serah to figure out that she can wrap some cloth around her hands (the... hand....) to prevent the visions from assaulting her as she walks around the city, occasionally pushing the cloth back to reveal fingers and try to figure out if she's getting closer to the owner or not.

When she thinks she is, Serah tries to wave down the people she sees. )

Excuse me! This-... ( Uh, how to put this. This person may even have two hands. ) Do you recognise this?

two/ let me know when you've had enough
( Serah's days are largely predictable, given enough time to witness what she does. She goes to the study building for a while to see if anyone needs help, then leaves to explore the city, roaming around every nook and cranny of the temples' grounds as if she's trying to ferret out information.

(She is. She trusts that other people have looked, but it's important to see these things for yourself.)

She spends time near the edges of Hadriel, doing the same while using the bow she picked up from the armoury to stop any straggling beasts from breaching the boundaries of the city. Always checking out anything that looks even remotely strange. (The mimics really enjoy playing tricks, honestly.)

Anyone who happens to hold an ornate hunting knife, practical but beautiful, in their hands will likely pick up on this routine. But people who happen to visit any of the above named locations are more than welcome to see a slight, pink haired young woman with a look of determination and nimble fingers around a bow and say hello. )

( ooc/ the knife is being found by Cecily, but feel free to just wildcard Serah otherwise. )

[Somewhere poking their heads out from beneath some rubble are the heads of some odd looking flowers. They bob and sway gently as the light breeze eases through their stems, the movement natural and easy as if they belonged there.

Except that they don't. And if they are removed from the pile of rubble it will be discovered that they are in a black plastic pot as if they were newly purchased from a nursery and were intended for planting in a garden.

If you are to touch these flowers or the pot itself you will get a flash of hands on piano keys moving methodically over the bars of black and white. The fingers are long, strong, and thin, masculine in appearance but given a series of wrinkles and freckles about the knuckles they are clearly those of an older person.]

Edited 2018-03-16 20:43 (UTC)

1: RANDOM LOCATIONS - Open

Maybe it's a dagger, lying somewhere as if set down and then forgotten. It's a beautiful thing, really, elegant and perfectly weighted. Something that could be thrown, although it's long enough that it's probably not used for that, the edge honed sharp. Picking it up will bring a flash of long fingers and a scarred palm, picking out tunes on a harp, a glimpse of water.

Maybe it's a banner - it was probably a vibrant crimson, once. But now the red is faded, the banner torn and covered in suspicious stains. But the great eight pointed star on it still shines defiantly silver, as if the threads were woven of metal. Picking it up will bring the flash of a blade, whirling in deadly patterns, but slower than a true battle. A spar, maybe, or just someone running through his moves.

2: Nightlights - Closed to Yukari

They won't be noticed until it's dark. A small bag of little gems, it seems, rubies, sapphires, emeralds... artificial ones, if one knows how to tell. But in the dark, in the shadow, they glow. Not just the standard glow-in-the-dark luminescene. No, in the absence of light they kindle, little tiny sparks of flame, as if someone set tiny little stars in their hearts, flickering brighter the darker it gets, but warm, always, like holding a bit of home in your hands. Picking them up brings a home, a little fountain in a lounge room, hands ink-stained as they scribble on paper, a meal left half-forgotten on a nearby table.

1) It can be found anywhere in or around the city, a horn emblazoned with what some might recognize as a modified Chantry symbol. To those that don't, it's still of fine quality, well-cared for. Picking it up will yield an image of a random street through the eyes of someone walking down it. Said someone seems to be shorter than the average person, since their line of sight is closer to the ground. At other times, one might be lucky enough to spot a mabari trotting ahead and sniffing at everything around.

Or it might not be a horn that's found. Somewhere else, perhaps on the floor of the speakeasy or near the hot springs, is a chunk of rock that 'sings' faintly, a sustained high note that sounds almost joyful. Faintly glowing crystals stud its surface. Touching it can yield images of blades flashing, as someone practices alone, or perhaps a very close image of a mabari's tongue as it licks the face of its owner.

2) And now it's Aren's turn to find something. Restless and likely to be found roaming anywhere, she'll let Barkspawn lead the way. At some point, the mabari will trot ahead and sniff at something, only to bark in her direction. Aren, naturally, picks up the pace.

"What've you found, boy?" Whatever it is, now it's her turn to see through someone else's eyes.

Edited 2018-03-16 18:10 (UTC)

[Margaery is in the orchards, gathering fruit from the trees and putting it in a basket which she has slung over her arm. Doing this task reminds her of Highgarden and home, a pang of homesickness so sharp it almost doubles her over. She puts a hand on a tree to steady herself, tries to summon a smile and a carefree air, and continues gathering fruit.

she wouldn't want anyone to see her at anything less than her best. other people may have the option of breaking down or falling apart, but Margaery Tyrell is not one of them]

[ the tiara's gems glisten in the sunlight, almost as though the tiara was meant to be in the place it's been found - hanging from someone's front door. it looks well taken care of, but no indications that it's been worn often.

who in Hadriel would have a tiara? there are a couple options, but it's not possible to tell who the owner is by just looking at it.

picking it up solves the mystery fairly quickly - Cashmere's primping in the mirror, intently focused on the way her wavy hair falls over her shoulders. and yes, also that bald spot that she has complained about to almost literally everyone.

maybe it's surprising to learn that she's the owner. if someone returns the tiara, they can probably get the story out of her. ]

closed to kyna/tucker

[Newt's item is his keyboard, which is all decked out in various stickers of stuff like band logos and Kaiju drawn in the style of graffiti. He's very cool. It's a little beat up from years of him loving on it. He's clearly gotten a lot of mileage out of the thing.

When Kyna touches it, she'll see... Tucker, actually. He's a little blurry, but that could be from the dim light of the bedroom. He's shirtless and tugging on his jeans, his back to Newt.

"So..." Yeah, that voice is definitely familiar. "When are we gonna do this again?"

"Whenever we both feel like it, I guess."

Newt huff out a little laugh like that was the answer he was expecting and yet it's ever so slightly disappointing.

Clearly he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, though: "Well, you know I'm always good to go." He stands. "Don't make me chase you down next time?"

And that's all Kyna gets. Tantalizing!]

closed to george

[Newt finds the sticky note stuck to a haphazard pile of notes... So haphazard that it takes him a couple of hours to notice it. At first, he thinks it's a note Semiyon has left him, but then he touches it, and he's seeing through the eyes of someone stitching someone else up, and that's a very trippy feeling. It would be more trippy if he wasn't already wise to this whole item even thing. Damn, just when he thought he was off the hook.

Luckily, the person in question should be easy enough to find. Stitches means clinic, right? Seems likely enough.

He walks in, and just kind of... starts talking? Someone's gotta be around.]

Hey! I think I found something that might belong to someone here? It's, uh... [He squints at the note.] A note? Not sure what to make of it beyond that.

[He waves it around. Someone claim it, please.]

[When Aloy finds the memory unit, she's not entirely sure what it is, just that it's a machine of some sort, and it's in amazing condition. Her first instinct is to get her focus to scan it, but it simply says that it's some sort of storage unit and nothing more. Her focus won't even connect to it. It's only when she picks it up that something strange happens.

She gets a flash of someone aiming a bow and arrow, nocking and loosing, and missing their target. Startled, she drops the memory unit entirely.

It's unlike anything she's ever experienced—seeing something so strongly in her mind's eye. At first she thinks, maybe, that she's imagining things. Maybe the gods are messing with her mind, and so she picks up the memory unit again, only to see another flash, a similar scene. For an hour or so, she can't place who it is, and then, coincidentally, she sees them putting on their armor, and it clicks. Church?

It's the only clue she has, so she sets off, trying to find him. The city isn't particularly large, and as ridiculous as it seems to think that she's actually seeing him, she heads for the armory, and runs into him on the way. It feels a little miraculous.]

Church?

[The memory unit is still cradled in her arms.]

For Julie:

[Jo is just going about her normal daily routine of scavenging the shops when she finds the bundle of papers.

At first, she ignores them, knowing that she can't read whatever language the former people used. After grabbing something from the other side of the aisle she looks back at it. She doesn't remember seeing it before, but that doesn't mean anything. She's observant but there are other people in Hadriel to leave things around.

The second glance makes her realize that the pile of looseleaf paper, tied together with a red string, is actually written in English and she can read it.

She shifts her messenger bag out of the way and picks up the sheets.]

"For Julie Cabarnet, the only light-" [She stops, suddenly overwhelmed with the sensation of not being in the shop.

There's someone talking, it takes a moment for the words to get through, but- I don't want to die. I don't. But I don't know if what I do want is worse. That's what scares me. There's an apartment and she can see that guy who set up the teaching list. The voice sounds familiar, Jo's talked to this girl before.

She doesn't know if it's a vision of the past or something else, but she decides to wait for a few hours before contacting Julie to see if this thing belongs to her.

Eventually she goes through the contact list to find Julie and sends her a quick text.]

Hey, did you lose anything recently?

[Komaeda looks a little different if you see him walking by. Normally, he has a cheerful, carefree persona, even when he is talking about what terrible things his luck can do or how worthless he is or whatever.

However, not today. Today, he looks very serious and thoughtful, as if something is troubling him.

Suddenly, he stops, not really paying attention to however might be walking by, and glances down at a piece of cloth. Slowly, he unwraps it, unveiling a hand. A woman's hand with bright red nails.]

High on a store shelf, between some canned corn beef and a sack of dried beans, a glint of light shining off metal might catch the attention of someone passing by. The source of the gleam is a steel helmet, worked with gold runes, with it's crest in the form of a great, snarling... lizard, perhaps. Or dragon, maybe, though it's hard to make out wings.

Either way, the crest is very disconcerting. Don't look at it too long, it's real counterpart had a habit of cursing people.

The person who reaches out to grasp it will incur two effects. First, they will immediately notice that the damn thing is heavy, and too big for most human heads to fit comfortably into it. Second, an image flashes through their mind- the inside of the armory, with someone looking over a number of types of arrows.

[It's not that Carlisle is against people being happy. It's not that he's opposed to domesticity of any sort, or that he's disgusted by the displays of affection others might give one another. He's not known for his warmth regarding interpersonal relationships, but he's not that prudish. However, there is just... something about seeing Kate in such a situation that makes his stomach churn.

He hadn't expected it, first of all. He was in his garden when it happened, his eye catching sight of something shiny just on his periphery -- an odd sight indeed for a garden mostly comprised of stone, wood, and various greenery. Upon closer inspection, it was a metal frame -- or three folded into one, rather, much like his leather one at home -- just sitting on one of his pots, as though someone had absentmindedly set it there and walked away. For him, perhaps?

As it turns out, no it was most certainly not for him, as Carlisle found out the moment his fingers wrapped around the smooth, metal surface. He should have known better than to pick up strange objects in the city by now -- certainly after the incident with the guns that appeared in their home -- but curiosity got the better of him this time. If the vision he saw wasn't enough to clue him in to whose pictures these were, a couple of the figures within them were recognizable. Pink hair on one, a red shock of hair on another, familiar faces. Kate and Faith.

It's several hours later before he makes it back to the spire where they both live; he hopes that what he saw was either a complete and utter illusion, or that her... company has had time to vacate the premises. Either way, she might hear a few quiet clunks as he tries to shove the frame -- and the cloth he has it wrapped in -- under the door.]

[OTA]
Alucard Emery starts off the day much the same as he always does. Waking up in the room opposite Rhy's (wishing it could be the same but knowing better than to voice that opinion aloud, what with the atmosphere between them these days), greeting him flirtatiously nonetheless after he's washed and dressed, and making his way out with Esa onto the town. There's hardly anything to do with himself these days, with no reason to push himself to get a job for money, and that as much as anything else is a struggle. Alucard may have begun his life as a rakish royal with food and lodging handed to him on a silver platter but all of that had changed three years ago. His life had changed. And since then Alucard Emery had grown used to hard work, hard labor, the sky above him and the sea below, an adventure before him and drinking the troubles of his past away.

Well an adventure this certainly is, but it's not the one that he had signed up for. He's put on a brave face and a smile to face it because that's what he always does, because Rhy is here and of all the people he could hope to have run into in this twist of fate it would be him. But it's definitely wearing on him. He wonders, as he makes his way down the street in the morning sun, whether it is too early to find himself a glass of wine somewhere. Probably... Perhaps the shops are open? He chances a glance at himself in a window as he passes by. Still wearing the same outfit that he had first arrived in, a dark blue jacket with a black sash, a sword hanging at his belt and brown boots that jangle with the sword as he walks. The sapphire in his brow winks back at him, his hair clipped back from his face in its customary fashion, and he flicks his reflection a half-hearted smile before continuing down the road. Perhaps a change of clothes might do him good.

[note: while alucard's item is taken, if you have an item yourself that needs receiving, just give me a shout at

lycanthropy101 and let's work something out together! c:]

[Closed for Michael]
Unbeknownst to Alucard, a certain item of his has made it into the city seemingly of its own accord. Which is fairly odd seeing as it is a hat. A quite magnificent hat, if Alucard says so himself, which he does, seeing as how it is his. It's one of his favorites -- tricorn, with a feather made of silver and glass. Very expensive. And very flamboyant, truth be told. But is anyone really surprised?

Edited (hats are important) 2018-03-18 16:28 (UTC)

[Laura's at her usual nighttime haunt, the Speakeasy. she's feeling pretty good about herself today, which is. . . odd. but she faced down a demon and survived the experience, so tonight she's drinking to celebrate rather than drown her sorrows. so instead of her usual bourbon or brandy, she's having champagne. the bubbles tickle her nose and she smiles at the sensation.

she's wearing a little black dress and her ring. which might be a magic ring. in fact, she's pretty sure that it is, given that it helped her resist BOB and apparently prevented the other demon from killing her.

she licks her right index finger and runs it around the edge of the champagne flute, making it sing. that makes her smile, too]

[Settled against the leg of a bench in the park is a photograph of a desert fox crouching on a sandy shore to lap water from a small pool. The photo is elegantly framed in a simple white frame and is very obviously out of place.

When touched someone will see a flash of hands throwing food to several of the fire-y salamanders that originated here in Hadriel, one of the strange tasks Semiyon has taken on as Newt's new roommate: feeding Newt's pets when he's away somewhere while half-suspecting that he is about to be set on fire by one of them]

[Sitting outside the clinic is a miniature replica of Michelangelo's David. To anyone who is familiar to the clinic it is clearly out of place, suddenly standing there like an odd sentinel of white marble guarding the clinic door.

If you bend down to touch it you will get a flash of older looking male hands lightly coated in flour as they roll dough.]

The object belonging to Abigail is aknife. It had once belonged to her father and Hannibal gave it to her in a therapy session of sorts. The knife is made out of human bone, though that may not be obvious simply be looking at it or handling it.

When it's found, whoever touches it will get a glimpse of Abigail's regular life. If they're lucky, they might see her hands sketching a beautiful picture. Or they could catch a glimpse as she creates a gourmet meal with whatever ingredients she has available. They might simply see through her eyes as she strums her fingers on a table, pretending it's a harpsichord. Less lucky and they might see an arrow pointed at one of the monsters, then taking it down with a well-aimed shot. They may even catch a glimpse of her field-dressing it. If they're not too squeamish, they could notice that she does it with ease and precision.

In order to see Abigail as herself, they would have to handle it during one of the few times that she looks in a mirror. As she prepares herself for the day, she fixes her hair to hide the spot where her ear used to be and ties a scarf around her neck to cover the scar. It's a routine that she's become used to, though they might see the sadness in her eyes as she hides her scars.

Caedra Nisariel | OTA | Will match format

Rita Du Clark | closed

Drake Holloway | closed

Trafalgar Law - closed and open both