(catchall / open)

[paraselenes]

WHO: dimitri & others
WHERE: misc.
WHEN: november!
WHAT: event stuff, etc! feel free to ask me for a starter over at my plotting comment, or just wildcard me whatever, i love wildcards
WARNINGS: will update as necessary

November Event & Tasks outside catch-all

• w/Childe
  
• w/Augustine
  
• w/Lottie
  
• w/Felix
  
• w/Fukawa
  
• w/Joonghyuk
  
• w/D

Comments

laurent ; jail

[paraselenes]

[ The last time he was imprisoned, Dimitri hadn't entertained any notions of escape. It had been better to accept his fate—if forfeiting his life and freedom meant the safety of his subjects, so be it. Or maybe he just lacked the spirit to rebel, to shake the chains and bars until something gave.

This time, he's slightly less plaintive about it. Watching the guards go through their rotations reveals a few things: they have keys almost carelessly on display at the hip, which they use on other cells occasionally to shout down disturbances. They don't work in pairs, much less groups. Even unarmed, he's certain he could grapple a lone guard down if he had the opportunity.

But right now, he's chained to others, and the guards don't even drift close to the cells unless they have reason to. And there's no great impetus for him to try to escape, personally. It's just the screams and wails echoing in the rest of the gallows that grate on his patience, and eventually he asks to one of his fellow cellmates, ]

Do you feel that you were wrongfully imprisoned here, stranger?

[wrists]

[ the last time he was imprisoned, a part of him had been certain he would die alone, unnoticed, his body left undiscovered for an indeterminable amount of time. govart had imprisoned him in such isolation it wouldn't have mattered if laurent had cried or begged or screamed — not that he is prone to doing any of those things. he hadn't made a sound when the brand was pressed into his arm, and hasn't complained about the pain even now.

the worst is that he's been stripped out of his clothes, an impressive feat in itself considering his complicated attire, but now he sits in rags, ankles chained to his cellmates by a filthy iron tether. his mind outpaces itself with thoughts of escape, his eyes intent on the guards making their rounds, and he only looks over when he hears a voice addressing him, gaze flinty. ]

No and yes. No, because one generally accrues a punishment upon killing another man. [ unfortunately. ] Yes, because the life I took was not so valuable as to warrant all this. And you?

[paraselenes]

[ Despite being dressed down, there are notes to read on all the prisoners. The way they cope with the stress, how straight their posture is in a place where no one will see them besides the imprisoned and the damned, the way they speak. Dimitri's overall polish is worn, left in rags rather than royal blue and his hair fallen loose to nearly his shoulders, but he isn't cowed by this place.

Likewise, the way this man acts and carries himself speaks to something more than civilian. A once-convict, maybe. Someone from a noble home, perhaps.

His brows draw together faintly, expression taking on a more steely edge. ]

No. [ He belongs here more than most, most likely. ] How do you measure the value of a life?

sylvain ; post-jail

[paraselenes]

[ The weary aches don't fade even as they make far from the gallows and his strength returns to him, which is strangely agitating. The whole episode has him more restless than his own stint in "jail" back home, buzzing with unanswered questions and unresolved anything.

It bothers him more than the brand on his arm, which he winds a fresh set of bandages around, frowning. ]

Sylvain, I appreciate that you came. But you don't have to attend to me.

[ It's a hard balance, trying not to sound ungrateful for the rescue, but also insisting his friend stops treating him with any special attention. Even after death, it doesn't feel like the roles between all of them have changed very much. ]

[philandery]

[ it's inevitable that the fine distinction between friendship and fealty is often blurred between them. children in faerghus aspired to chivalric, bloody deaths, weaned at a young age from breastmilk to tales of glory and sacrifice. at times it's hard to distinguish between tradition and necessity, and at times the two are very much conflated.

sylvain understands he has no debt to settle with the throne, but even so, this is something he ought to do. whether as a friend or former subject (not that he was ever his), this is something he chooses to do, and it's not as selfless as it might be perceived to be. ]

You'd rather me hand you off to Felix instead...?

[ he shoos dimitri's hand away so he can help set the bandage on his arm. ]

Or do you just find me that unreliable? I'm a changed man, you know...

[ he asks it gently, without any bite. more like an inside joke between them. ]

leaks ; serene-ish

[paraselenes]

[ The jailbreak was a madhouse escapade, and none of the prisoners escaped unscathed. Literally, all of them had these brands—a heavy burn that's been slow to heal, considering the circumstances they'd been in. On top of that, there's the various scrapes and bruises he'd sustained in the process of fighting a guard with near mutant endurance, and the fact that he tends to simply shrug all of this off instead of, like, sleeping.

It all makes him a little careless when it's time for him to go back home in an apartment complex in Serene. With how many trees there are, he's left practically staring at the ground as he walks, wearied.

...And so he bumps straight into someone. With a start, he nearly looks up, but quickly manages to cut his gaze to the ground. It makes him look more sheepish than he is, which is—a little embarrassing. ]

Apologies—did I hurt you?

[dissonyance]

[ he's also returning to his own place, though it's not the apartment complex. he has chosen his own dwelling, something similar to where he lived in the past, though this one isn't inside of a tree. shame.

what leaks doesn't expect is to be bumped into. that his head has been in a book, and that he keeps his eyes on the pages and not on what is in front of him. why should he expect to see anyone here in the first place? regardless, leaks takes a few steps backward, more surprised than staggered, ears immediately folding back and gaze accusatory and sharp. ]

Hurt me? [ leaks huffs. ] No. Not at all.

[ and then he takes stock of dimitri in whole. ]

But you, on the other hand? Perhaps you should keep your head up.

dokja ; notice board

[paraselenes]

[ He's only gotten to talk to Dokja after all his group of "comrades" put up the least flattering biographies of each other. But he's an agreeable enough fellow, and there's no reason not to work together when they share a goal.

Which is to find this guy's lost... movies? ]

I should have asked before I accepted the task, frankly, but what sort of place is this...?

[ He's been to opera theatres and stages for plays, but for one, Faerghus isn't a well-known patron of the arts. And secondly, this really doesn't look anything like either. ]

When he said he owned a theatre, this isn't what I was expecting.

[salvageable]

[ Don't mind Dokja as he starts looking under the seats at this theater room... He wants to get this task done as quickly and as efficiently as possible. Too bad it would have helped to know what he's looking for. Are they DVDs? VHS? Reels?? Why do movies come in so many different formats and why is the end result going to be none of the above.

Anyway, he mutters something about how the place could have at least left the lights on to make this easier before his attention is drawn back to Dimitri. ]

What were you expecting?

[ Despite how distracted he sounds, he really is curious because this... this is what a normal theater looks like. ]

bruno ; barrens

[paraselenes]

[ After his run-in with the law, it seems better to keep a low profile. Dimitri avoids some of the more populated parts of Stygia—so that means the harbors aren't an option, and Mirth isn't his favored choice of stomping grounds to begin with. Serene is out for other reasons, mostly in that he can't seem to look at the boughs of a tree this month without seeing something look back at him.

So today, he's exploring the Barrens. It's about as welcoming as its name suggests. The terrain is harsh, there's vagrants loitering in the dark corners, and worse, sentries that he isn't expecting.

Which is why he quickly ducks into what he assumes is a mostly-abandoned chapel, pressing himself against the door as he peeks out a window to see if the guards have escaped. It's why he's a little slow to notice that... someone is in here, actually.

He stares at Bruno in surprise before quickly motioning for him to be quiet with a finger raised to his lips. ]

[fallingsand]

[ Bruno doesn't mind the sentries himself, personally, but he also wasn't amongst those dragged kicking and screaming to the Gallows. Witnessing enough of that on a visit to the city had left him nervous and worried and, so, he had retreated back to the little chapel he'd been slumming in. It's been tidied up, broken windows boarded, doors repaired, and at the moment, he's puttering around lighting more candles for the night.

Right up until someone ducks in. He... should be used to this by now, actually. It's not the first time someone has wandered in for one reason or another. He stares at Dimitri, Dimitri stares at him, and before he can say anything, he's being shushed.

The sound of people calling out in the Barrens is a worrying sound. Whatever is happening, even Bruno doesn't want to draw attention. He turns the blow out the candles that had already been lit instead, returning the chapel floor to a darker, more abandoned-looking appearance. ]

claude ; post-jail

[paraselenes]

[ To say he's on-edge... would be putting it lightly. It isn't even the most harrowing imprisonment he's suffered, but it's different when Cornelia put him a room and trapped him there with obligations rather than chains. It was being caught and captured before he even had a mind to resist, made powerless, and what's worst—what he can't forgive—is how few of the others there seemed to actually deserve it.

He's buzzing with agitation, an old paranoia working him up into an unnecessary level of alertness, even if he should be clear now that he's made it free of the gallows.

Instead, when someone surprises him by rounding the corner ahead of him, he more or less shoves them against the wall of a building, draped in shadow, arm pressed to their throat. There's a fierce gleam in his eye before—it fizzles into confusion. ]

—Claude?

[midway]

[ It's a little weird to move into a place that's one day filled with a few too many people, and the next day empty. Claude can't say that he minds the solitude, but not quite at the cost of the other tenants' physical safety. The rescue efforts are familiar at least, though tiring, and it all feels rather pointless. It's not like the authorities couldn't just capture them all again while they remain in the city.

Or maybe they'd be too exhausted to spare the resources again. It would be a nice for everything to work out without any further effort.

In any case, he's wearily making his way back to the building when he rounds a corner and finds the wind knocked suddenly out of him, back against gritty brick.

He's not as alarmed as he should be considering that Dimitri could very easily crush his windpipe, looking dazed as he looks back at him, grateful that he hadn't knocked his head on the wall. ]

Did— [ he wheezes a little, depending on how quickly Dimitri lets him free ] —being locked up make you starved for a moonlit rendezvous? I'm flattered, Dimitri.

[ They weren't locked up that long, but it's a joke anyway! ]

vincent ; jail

[paraselenes]

[ Waking up after being knocked unconscious is always the worst part; he's left with a fantastic headache as he winces back into reality, gripping his head as a few details register in quick successful. For one, the brand on his arm is very real, and it's still very much there, swollen and angry. His clothes are different too, whatever he might've used as a weapon stripped away. And the room he's in has a terrible draft from half-crumbled walls, dead vines crawling up between the grooves and cracks of stone, dark and terrible with the sound of agony.

His last experience with "jail" was downright plush compared to this. When he sits up, it's with the clatter of a chain. He narrows his eyes at it before he notices it's locked up someone else, too. That man in the woods with the red eyes. ]

...You. [ His tone's not harsh; more puzzled than anything. ] What are you doing here?

[ He hadn't seemed recklessly bloodthirsty or anything last time they'd met. ]

[lapses]

[ he committed no crimes that would justify either the branding on his arm or the imprisonment that he now faced.

nonetheless, vincent came to the gallows without resistance or protest, aware that many of the other restless have been caught and arrested as well. he would be able to do more once inside than he would on the outside. his compliance was rewarded with less brutality than those who'd fought back.

besides, his shadow reminds him that he did shed blood last month, did he not? he spilt unnecessary blood when he could have very much used his own.

it had a good laugh when it noticed who he was confined with — the very one whose palm he'd cut. ]

How are you feeling? [ he ignores the question. ]

jinx ; notice board

[paraselenes]

[ As thrilling as it is to catch fish all day for some coin, the Hinterlands task is intriguing—could a star really fall out of the sky? Is that something humans could safely handle? It's almost more curiosity than promise of reward that motivates him to trek out for hours, waiting for some sign of starfall, whatever that could look like.

Which is made difficult by the fact that every time he looks up into the trees, something is there. There's a rattle of bones and loose ligament, an empty skull that still manages to stare back at him somehow. So he's left staring at the ground for the entire hunt... until he crosses a smoldering crater. That's probably relevant.

He's staring down at a bunch of tiny elementals shaking tiny swords in their tiny arms, wondering how he's supposed to get around them, when he realizes someone else is there too. ]

Pardon me—are you here about the bounty?

[hexgem]

[ To say that Jinx has had a rough time in the Hinterlands would be an understatement. A city girl through and through, she possesses none of the skill or know-how necessary to traverse the wilds. She was simply motivated by the reward, higher than any other quest, and now she understands why.

The kicker is that she finally made it, discovered the crater where a star really had crashed into the earth, only to be kept away by creatures she ought to have squashed under her boot. Instead she barely got away before they could set her ablaze.

Now she sits atop a mossy boulder twisting a still-smoking braid in her hands. The parts of her that aren't covered in mud are dusted with ash. She greets the approaching newcomer with a roll of her eyes. ]

What gave it away? [ She asks sarcastically, a clear implication that the answer is an obvious yes. Yet after hours out here on her own, part of her is relieved to see another person, and it's that part that decides to warn him. ] You might wanna step back. Those little things might look cute but they pack a helluva punch.

ruby ; jail

[paraselenes]

[ It's not enough that he's been captured and branded, left in a cell without trial or word of future judgment. It's a massive state of limbo, and they're left to endure it in fetid rags, a half-crumbling room, and other baleful prisoners. He's tested the shackle around his ankle here and again, but even his strength seems to have fled this place, and the metal never gives.

This should be bad enough. But he's felt the creeping itch of sickness in the back of his throat; he's ready to blame it on their conditions—it's cold, and a place like this is bound to spread plague—when he stifles a cough.

Which he covers, naturally, but he manages to hack out to his poor cellmate, Ruby— ]

Apologies— [ Sorry that she has to be stuck with someone sick? But then, weirdly, some petals sputter out from behind his hand. ]

[appeale]

[ there are certain reactions anyone would expect from Rudbeckia. she's built a character for herself: the gentle Lark of Sistine, sweet but sheltered. beneath the stress of this situation, she should fracture, break down crying; or else wail about the unfairness of it all, from a more uncharitable perspective. she does neither. for the entire time Dimitri has been in here with her, Ruby has been silent. her hands tremble with fear, and her expression is blank.

the brand hurt. it wasn't any worse than being whipped by her brother. more than anything, she's shaken by the despair.

Dimitri's presence had slipped her mind entirely for a time, and his cough startles her back into awareness. her response is automatic, half-hearted: ] It's fine—

[ then she actually looks at him, and sees the petals falling from his hand. ]

Dimitri?!

flower gossip + possible questing (if anything needs to be edited lemme know!)

[spaceassassin]

[ there are quicker methods to acquiring knowledge here – gossip, more like – than wasting nondescript hours wandering the many districts of stygia. the netherwork is meant to be some sort of beacon for free flowing communication. keith tried it, once, and instantly regretted ever entrusting shiro’s well being in a handful of strangers. he’s doing much the same now, actually, except it feels like he’s accomplishing more by putting his feet to the street and digging for information himself.

funny he should feel that way, considering he’s acquired nothing useful thus far. well, except a companion who may or may not prove to be useful.

seems the coughing fits are affecting more than just a few. apparently, even the netherworld isn’t immune to epidemics. recurring ones, too. the last restless that indulged them? Giggled with lacking concern, prattling on about it being a sickness of the heart and that they ought to be with those they love, before continuing on her way. keith stares after her for an extended moment, only to scoff dismissive and… pouty. the crossed arms only accentuate the mood. ]

… Dunno what she’s talking about. It’s obviously something with the lungs.

[ on cue, he gives a little cough, throat twinging. ]

But maybe it’s not a big deal. If it’s happened before, people get better.

[ … everyone gets better…? ]

it's perfect ty!!

[paraselenes]

[ At first, he'd taken the strange cough as something that spread through the dingy jail cells so many people were packed into. But it's clear that it's something that goes beyond that—some reoccurring malfeasance here to make their lives more difficult, again.

He tries not to be too concerned, but he knows the dangers of a plague, and the lighthearted dismissal from their latest "informant" is not encouraging. Is she saying that they should spend their final days with their loved ones...? Is she just messing with them? Either way, he sighs, only lightly despairing. Just two guys, pouting at their total lack of progress. ]

If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not take her word for it.

[ Please. ]

I've heard there are tonics that can help ease the symptoms, but I do not know that they are a cure. Or even very effective. [ ... ] It seems we haven't learned much at all here.

sooyoung; post-jail

[pyojeol]

[my promised one sentence starter nu

ANYWAY JAIL WAS A LOT HUH, Sooyoung's still nursing the various bruises and small injuries she'd received from her very short stint, in that she's just walking around with all her wounds EXPOSED like it's all a secondary thought in her mind. More importantly... she'll make her way over to Dimitri as soon as she spots him, a big glass jar tucked under her arm.]

Dimitri. [a greeting first!! then] You've been coughing out flowers and shit, right? Do you have any on you right now?

[she shakes the jar.......]

[paraselenes]

[ yaywon this is more than one sentence

Anyway, he's clearly giving her scrapes and bruises a once-over, slightly exasperated. At least get bandaged up? ]

...May I ask why?

[ what is she up to ]

set ; post-jail

[paraselenes]

[ His feelings on being imprisoned—hand-in-hand with the feelings of being free, or a fugitive—are conflicted as ever. But that doesn't mean he respects the authority of the sentries dipping in and out of buildings to track and recapture loose vagrants who've slipped free of the gallows. It leaves him flinching at shadows, ready to draw a blade he doesn't have. He doesn't feel safe on the best of days; this whole incident has left him with an excess of caution.

So what keeps him inside isn't injury. The wounds he'd sustained in prison and from breaking out of it aren't crippling. It isn't exactly fear, either. It's just a torn mind and an unsettled nerve, one he's still trying to soothe as he looks over the angry, swollen brand on his arm, slow to heal.

The last thing he expects in the midst of this is a visitor. He nearly doesn't answer the door—but for anyone to have gotten inside this building, they can't be affiliated with the Hierarchy. And it's a familiar presence. ]

...Set?

[ Huh. That has him looking out into the hall despite looking a little disheveled, surprised. ]

Did you need something? [ Was it so urgent as to warrant a meeting? ]

[redsoil]

[ Too many were taken away. From what he had heard of, in the aftermath, there was no true justice done in the rush to capture the Restless who had shed blood. No nuance, no degree of judiciousness applied; whether it was a drop or a gout, they were rounded up en masse and Set -- had been left untouched, in contrast. It was shocking, for his sins not to automatically include him among the rank and file of those imprisoned, but as much that, it was infuriating.

One moment, he was able to provide and watch over the handful of others he had grown modestly attached to, and the next - they were gone. He seeks as many as he can, once he hears of their escape. ]

Dimitri.

[ He has nothing with him, save for himself - wearing a scrunched expression. ]

I heard of what happened. I came to - see after you.