[closed] hey get your knives out

[prozaic]

WHO: Shalem + others
WHERE: Mostly in the Gallows, but there's something happening in Mirth too.
WHEN: Event time!
WHAT: Shalem is in jail, then he's not. Then he needs to make some money.
WARNINGS: Shalem's Shadow amplifying his bloodlust, some PTSD, lots of poetic waxing about dark things. More tba

[ a catch-all for people i've plotted with. feel free to respond to my plotting comment if you'd like a thread! ]

Comments

[prozaic]

Very well.

[shalem reaches out with his right hand-- gloved, as both his hands are, and bearing multiple rings-- to shake.]

I am Shalem-- nice to meet you.

[damnpire]

[He watches the offered hand for a long moment, and then he finally steps forward to close the distance. His left hand is somewhat open, but his right hand is also gloved, and he extends it to take Shalem's. No jewelry, though; he's too minimalist of a man.

He shakes Shalem's hand with a firm grip.]

D. The pleasure is mine.

[prozaic]

[they say a firm grip is a good sign. to shalem, a firm grip just makes the rings bite into his fingers, even if he has gloves on. even if he's giving a firm grip in return because that's just how he knows it has to be.

just a squeeze, a shake, and then he lets go.]

All right then. Come, let's see if we can get our work done. [and what about the book he's been reading? shalem tucks it into his jacket. of course he intends to take it with him.

maybe even "conveniently forget" to put it back.]

[damnpire]

[The gloved hand disappears once more beneath the edge of the long, black cape. Hopefully the start-over doesn't end up in more disagreements down the road. He thinks they'll be alright.]

We should look around to see where your key leads.

[He... doesn't say anything about the book theft actually. Look! It's just a book. He is usually pretty decent about staying in his own land, trying to talk someone out to accepting death notwithstanding.]

[prozaic]

Yes, yes. [shalem will stand... but stays sitting long enough to give the skely-tons a farewell pat on each skull. he'd like to bring some of them home...! but what if they're bound here, what if they just like working here and have their own homes?

oh well.]

Where else have we found locked doors other than this one?

[in his extreme focus on the books, shalem has. well.

he's forgotten.]

[damnpire]

[Again, he watches each skeleton receive a pat. They do not hold the same kind of captivation for him they do Shalem, but he doesn’t honestly judge the other man for it.]

We should check the other rooms to see if we have missed anything.

[There isn’t another door to check until they get through the wall, but, well, they won’t notice the wall if they don’t check.]

[prozaic]

Hmm... [shalem makes one last sweep of the room, and sees nothing but themselves, the odd locked door, the little skeleton-creatures running around their feet, and the piles and piles of books.

then he pulls out the key and peers at it.]

I wonder-- would this key open something other than a door?

[damnpire]

It's possible.

[A key doesn't have to open a door necessarily.

He turns away and begins moving from this room back toward the librarian's room, though without too much hurry.]

Let's see if we find anything it fits.

[prozaic]

Ah... time to inspect every padlock we see. [he says that almost cheerfully, as if he's not saying something that will become incredibly tedious to them later on. or sooner rather than later, really.

shalem fits the ring around his forefinger, just to keep it where he's always aware of it, should anyone attempt to steal it. he doesn't think there will be an attempt at theft, but still, it pays to be careful.]

Do you remember seeing any on our way to this room?

[damnpire]

[Shalem...]

It could be you are just right in that he does not fit that sort of lock.

[Maybe they are Locke and Key adjacent and the keys do very funny and sometimes horrifying things. It's fine.

Inside the room, he pauses to give it a glance around. Nothing as changed thankfully, but that also means nothing stands out as important yet.]

It might be hidden. How good are you at finding secrets?

[prozaic]

I've gotten enough experience with such things in recent times. Before I died, I mean.

[which is such a non-answer, and the only response he will give. no need to elaborate on how he went and explored an entire castle and its traps simply to find one man.]

So we must search every nook and cranny, and even the bricks that don't seem like they're loose. [then he cricks his neck and flexes his shoulders.] Might as well get to it, then.

[damnpire]

[He doesn't question the non-answer, but does find it a little hmm regardless. Not that he believes Shalem wouldn't have a completely normal history considering their conversations.

He looks at Shalem, and then he looks back to what's ahead of them.]

Start on the right. I'll start on the left.

[He turns left, moving slowly and carefully while inspecting what he can. His hand reaches out to file along the wall and anything else in reachable distance.]

[prozaic]

Yes, yes. [shalem licks his dry lips, at the same time scenting the air with his tongue. then just pulls it back in because the soapy water that the cleaning crew used around here smelled stronger to him, and just a little unpleasant. plus, the scent of old books, while nostalgic, is just terrible.

but his tongue is much better at this sort of thing than his nose for some ungodly reason, some vestigial trait from his ancestors, he's sure, along with how it's forked.

he doesn't note anything off, no wind whistling through unseen gaps in the walls, no odd scents. still, he pushes against the walls and tugs on lighting fixtures, listening carefully even to his own-- admittedly very faint-- footsteps.]

I'll try this room, by the way. [spoken loudly enough so that his companion can hear him, one hand on the doorknob.]

[damnpire]

[The only time he will finally understand the tongue is later when Sylvain kisses his cheek, and his punishment ends up being a forked tongue.

He’s still making his slow circle, but pauses to glance in Shalem’s direction.]

Be careful.

[He will follow in a moment if Shalem isn’t back yet, but wants to finish the loop around in case.]

[prozaic]

[of course, shalem knows how to be careful, and he has the tools to do so. he opens the door a crack rather than go in bodily, he lets himself listen, smell... so on and so forth.

he calls out once he's taken stock of the room and determines there's not a soul inside.]

Looks to be safe! [which suits him just fine, because he'd rather be quiet. serene. calm. that sort of thing. he doesn't want a fight, is the point.

he delves deeper into the room, unbothered by the dim lighting-- felines may be the best operators at night, but pythia are no slouch either even if their eyesight is less sharp. shalem can still see in some way. there are a lot of books-- the smell is unmistakable, even it's much less than that in the documents room.

d will likely find shalem picking up a cushion from one of the sofas and couches, and winding his tail around it, just for something to squeeze gently as he wanders around the room to inspect everything.]

[damnpire]

[Soon after, D appears at the door to look inside after Shalem. The low light doesn’t bother his eyes. He tracks Shalem and the squished fidget pillow for a moment, and then he steps inside as well.

In the quiet of just their movement, a very croaky and strange voice mutters,] What d’ya know, more books. [It doesn’t sound like D’s voice at all, and it isn’t very loud.

D just stands there still, looking around.]

[prozaic]

[shalem freezes-- that's not d's voice, is it? he remembers it well because he heard it only minutes ago. he's not so old that his memory is going, and his oripathy hasn't reached his brain to be affecting it in any capacity.

so... what's going on?

he raises his tail with the cushion still in its coil with every intention of throwing it if he needs to run away. it won't hurt, certainly, but it could be enough of a distraction.]

D? Is there someone behind you?

[damnpire]

[This damn parasite always does this to him at the least opportune moments.]

No.

[For the moment, he stays where he’s standing to not freak Shalem out more.]

You don’t have to worry. It isn’t anything dangerous.

[prozaic]

Then... that was you.

[which is the only conclusion to have, because there's no one near shalem, and he knows for sure that the gravelly voice came from somewhere near the doorway.]

Or the one in your head. [the shadow, he means.

not that he has any leg to stand on, when his shadow takes over without him realizing, and fucks so many things up for him.]

[damnpire]

Heh heh heh. Gave you a scare, huh? I can do that, too. [In exact mimicry of D’s voice, somehow, it says:] Like this. Call me D. Tall, dark, and painfully quiet. [And then, even stranger, in mimicry of Shalem’s voice:] Shalem, at your service.

[The old, dusty voice is back after, though, when it cackles in amusement.]

That’s enough. You’re showing off and interrupting us. [To Shalem:] It’s a parasite. There’s no need to worry.

[prozaic]

[can a shadow do that? shalem's sure can't (maybe...) and he hasn't interacted with someone else's shadow before.

which, perhaps, is a blessing.]

Please speak to your Soulmate about that after this, if you have one. [if he doesn't... well.

shalem turns back around, the pillow still in his tail, ready to be thrown. he brushes his hand over the available surfaces in the dark, noting the desk, the shelves. an office?]

[damnpire]

I don’t have one.

[Sometimes, the funny man to your straight man lives inside your hand.

Now that the parasite is quiet, he carrie’s on with what they’re doing too, and he joins Shalem inside. The loaded and ready pillow is valid.]

Something must be hidden.

[prozaic]

[well, d is kind of fucked, isn't he?

not that shalem has a leg to stand on when it comes to that, but he's made slightly more stable by his soulmate (maybe...). but he's not going to tell him to find a soulmate, that's inappropriate.

so he pivots to the next topic.]

This seems to be an office. Thus... There's something here. [so he immediately moves to the large desk, already pulling drawers out.]