TDM 1 ⬡ The Oval Portrait

[liburuzaina]

	Casting Call The Oval Portrait Edgar Allan Poe »» "Long — long I read — and devoutly, devotedly I gazed." Name: The Aristocrat Casting Call: Characters with a Birthday from September through December Physical Notes: Desperately wounded, to the point of being bedridden, but not losing consciousness. Personality Notes: Curious, and prone to becoming enraptured by the pursuit of learning about whatever has caught their curiosity. Mildly delirious due to injury. Compulsions: To learn about their surroundings, whether through study of the portraits in the chateau apartment, conversation with a companion, or ill-advised exploration. «« »» "We established ourselves in one of the smallest and least sumptuously furnished apartments." Name: The Valet Casting Call: Characters with an Unknown Birthday Physical Notes: Older than The Aristocrat by ≥ 5 years. Personality Notes: Willing and able (by force or by cleverness) to break in to a home for the well-being of their employer. A caretaker by nature. Compulsions: To see that The Aristocrat is comfortable for the night and their wounds are tended to, and to get some rest themselves once their duty is complete. In the absence of The Aristocrat, The Valet is free to act as they please. «« »» "She was a maiden of rarest beauty, and not more lovely than full of glee." Name: The Maiden Casting Call: Characters with a birthday from May through August Physical Notes: Young, aged from 15-20. Personality Notes: All smiles, loving and cherishing of all things, hating only The Painter's art, for they deprive them of their lover. Compulsions: To live life to the fullest, to love, to be happy... But also to make their husband, The Painter happy, by being a good and willing subject for his portraiture, should he ask. ⬡ Will slowly waste away and die, should they sit and allow themselves to be painted. «« »» "And evil was the hour when she saw, and loved, and wedded the painter." Name: The Painter Casting Call: Characters with a birthday from January through April Physical Notes: Older than the maiden by ≥ 10 years. Personality Notes: Passionate, studious, austere, wild, moody. More in love with his art than his wife. Compulsions: To paint. To paint, and paint, and paint some more. To ask their lovely wife to be the subject for their next piece, and to throw themselves into the completion of it. ⬡ Unaware they are doing harm with their painting, until it is complete. «« code @ efryndiel The Chateau ⬡ Common Cast Characters most likely to originate in The Chateau are The Aristocrat and The Valet ⬡ Literary Description "To all appearance it had been temporarily and very lately abandoned. We established ourselves in one of the smallest and least sumptuously furnished apartments. It lay in a remote turret of the building. Its decorations were rich, yet tattered and antique. Its walls were hung with tapestry and bedecked with manifold and multiform armorial trophies, together with an unusually great number of very spirited modern paintings in frames of rich golden arabesque." ⬡ For Your Exploration Characters may attempt to explore the Chateau, but it will be shrouded in darkness, and every room they enter will bring them back to the apartment chosen by The Valet. What decorations may be seen are dark and victorian in design, and the room and halls may be lit by candlelight. The Maiden's portrait is on the wall, and will initially be cloaked in shadow for The Aristocrat to find. It appears remarkably lifelike, almost as though it is a window instead of a portrait. The other paintings on the walls will contain figures that are almost familiar to The Aristocrat and The Valet - as though they could be someone they know, but only if they squint. There is no electricity. Characters will not have access to any powers. The Artist's Tower ⬡ Common Cast Characters most likely to originate in The Artist's Tower are The Maiden and The Painter ⬡ Literary Description "But she was humble and obedient, and sat meekly for many weeks in the dark, high turret-chamber where the light dripped upon the pale canvas only from overhead. But he, the painter, took glory in his work, which went on from hour to hour, and from day to day." ⬡ For Your Exploration Should characters leave the Painter's studio, they will immediately be transported outside, to a sprawling field of wildflowers. There won't seem to be anything else around, but there will be a light breeze and the sound of the sea in the distance. Inside the studio, the air is stale and musty, smelling of oil paints and turpentine. It's dim, lit only by a skylight. There is a stool for the subject and an easel with canvas sitting in the light, but everything else - art materials, more canvases, both empty and with the beginnings of paintings, and props - are all pushed to the sides of the room and cloaked in shadow. Like The Chateau, there is no electricity, and characters will not have access to their powers. The Library ⬡ Welcome! Free from their roles, through either death, completion of the Story, or from not being pulled into the tale in the first place, characters will find themselves in the gardens outside of the Library itself. As always, it will look and feel like a temperate, autumn afternoon. As this setting is part of the Library itself, characters will have full access to all their powers. ⬡ Grand Opening Coming Soon! The front door will, unfortunately, be locked, and a sign will be taped on the doors, detailing how the Library will be opening soon, but in the meantime to please enjoy the grounds and the pizza party in the courtyard. ⬡ Pizza party? Pizza party! In the courtyard, there will be tables set up that will be absolutely covered in stacks of paper plates, 2-liter bottles of any soda one could dream of, and stacks and stacks of pizza boxes, containing any flavor combination that could be desired. Opening a random box will provide a random, but popular, flavor. Opening a box with an Intent and a Desire for something specific will provide exactly that. Enjoy! It won't run out. navigation • premise • reserves • faq

Comments

Questions

[liburuzaina]

[whatteam]

I see that characters don't get their powers within the story, but what about their mundane weapons?

Osamu Dazai | Bungou Stray Dogs | OTA | Maiden

[bluemackerel]

[OOC: Dazai's birthday is June 19th! Thus, he's been assigned the role of The Maiden.]

[ A BLANK C A N V A S ]

[He can't remember what happened next, but he does know he has a pounding headache. Osamu pats at his forehead, sitting up. There's a certain unfamiliar gentle feeling that darts across his actions, his lips pursing. He gets up from the floor, shaking his head.]

Mm. What's...going on?

[He looks around, then frowns.]

Am I in some kind of gallery? ...Where's my husband?

[Wait, husband? ...Husband. Oh-kay then. He swerves around, before noticing another person in the room.]

Oh, my, is that you, my darling?

[....He might be playing this up a little bit with the way he gets on his tiptoes and bats his eyelashes.]

I've~ missed~ your~ company~

[W I L D F L O W E R S]
[That place was quiet and dark! And musty! And awful! So Osamu had walked outside....swaying his hips, because of course he was. And now he was enjoying the flowers.

Well, more eyeing them up. A small smile formed on his face.]

I wonder if any of these are poisonous...my, that'd be a way to go...I couldn't go without my darling, though...maybe he'll delight in eating some with me!

[He's giggling. Good grief.]

[W E L C O M E]
[So there he was, another unfamiliar location. At least he didn't feel... off this time. A small foxlike amused smirk formed on his face.]

How interesting. I thought for certain that'd be the end of me that time. What a shame.

[Now, where was he? ...Uncertain. But he felt less limited. Which was a marked positive. He walked further into the garden, then peered up at the door as he walked past it.]

Library opening soon...hm. Well. I've always enjoyed a good book.

[He's amused and intrigued.]

[ PIZZA P A R T Y]
[Osamu looked around at the well-stocked party. Well. At least wherever this was, it seemed to be...peaceful. A place people would've gone to by choice, honestly. Not that Kunikida would usually let him slack off at a place like this...

But! Kunikida wasn't there!!!

Which led to Osamu taking a bottle of Coke, and then looking at the pizza boxes.]

Pepperoni.

[He opened the box. Pepperoni pizza. Then he tapped his chin, putting that box aside.]

Pineapple.

[Sure enough, opening that box produced a pineapple pizza.]

...I'm a psychic.

[Not really, but this is amusing.]

[WILD C A R D]
[Got any other ideas? Shoot me a message or post up something and we can probably work it out! Thanks!]

wildflowers

[relieable]

[he had to leave that room for a bit. Osomatsu was getting frustrated, and he didn't know why. he didn't have a lot of time, but he decided to get a quick bit of air.

he's not alone. someone else is already out here, looking at the flowers. Osomatsu can hear the sea in the distance as he approaches. where is he?]

Uh, 'scuse me... You see a pachinko parlor anywhere around here?

felix hugo fraldarius | fe:3h | painter!

[brothered]

i. something, something, french girls

[Felix is not, ah, particularly artistic? Art is to be admired, in his opinion. From a distance. It's best if he doesn't participate—but as Felix pokes about this tower, peering at the art supplies strewn about, it's as though something calls to him. For the first time in a long time, Felix feels the desire to create.

And so create he does! Sitting himself before the easel, he takes in the sight of both the smooth, untouched canvass—and the person positioned directly across from him, sitting straight-backed in a chair. Hi. Hello. This is his muse, apparently, and while Felix finds himself admiring their aesthetic—seriously, that profile!—he spares them only the briefest glances once he picks up a nub of charcoal. What matters is, like, capturing their essence? Something he's in a bit of a hurry to do, as evidenced by his quick, rough strokes, by the fact that he pays no mind to the cool breeze blowing through the open window. Maybe his muse shivers; maybe his muse just takes a particularly deep breath! Either way, Felix is quick to snap:]

Are you trying to ruin everything? Sit still.

[Rather rude, and yet he pays it no mind as he continues sketching away. Call him out—or, if you're an observer, feel free to stand behind him and witness his artistic expertise on display. Compulsion does not bring skill, you see, so feel free to give him some pointers...]

ii. let's make flower crowns

[A field of flowers is another un-Felix-y thing, and yet, as he stands in the middle of this one—well! Well. For the first time in many, many years, Felix finds himself stooping to pluck flower after flower, forming a sort of makeshift, multi-colored bouquet in his hand. It's relaxing, in a way... rather nice...

...Until another person comes into view, and suddenly Felix straightens, his purpose so clear.]

You. Come here.

[Come here!! Because as he holds his bouquet higher, squinting a bit while lining it up with the side of this person's head:]

Has your hair always been this dull? [he asks, simply, as though this is an undeniable fact and not an incredibly rude thing to say.] Perhaps if we add flowers... the right color to brighten it...

[We're going to play this, but with pretty wildflowers. Get hype.]

iii. ye olde pizza

[As Felix wanders about this courtyard, the scowl on Felix's face makes it clear that he isn't exactly pleased to be here—but that's nothing new, because hey! Felix is rarely pleased about anything! Feel free to catch him studying the doors to the library, muttering to himself as his attempts to shake them open fail to do anything at all? Or catch him loitering by the Pizza Table, one hand on his hip as he cautiously pries open a box with the other. Huh...]

What is this?

[It's like bread... with cheese? Very Gautier™, if you ask him; he doesn't trust it at all, especially as he lifts a (floppy) pizza slice to inspect it and—oh! Well, there goes both the cheese and the toppings, just sort of... slowly (and sadly) slipping off the side...

...Disgusting. The face he pulls makes that opinion clear, but when some brave someone sidles up to him to grab a piece of their own, he wastes no time leveling them with a look.]

Don't tell me you plan to eat it.

[Bruh, look at this piece he's still holding a full foot in front of him? The cheese continues inching ever lower?? Respect yourself.]

iv. wildcard

[want felix for anything? anything at all? toss me a starter or hit me up over at tuchanka ! i am down for EVERYTHING!]

i (hiya, hope this is okay!)

[kiboutraveler]

[Jyushimatsu has no idea what is going on. None at all. But he's sitting there, because he's married to this man, and he loves him. He's not sure how that turned out. But hey, he's not in a position to really complain.

He doesn't even remember his name.

Oh well! Little things like that don't matter when you're in love! Probably!

He's snapped at to sit still, and he straightens up a bit.]

Haaa...sorry.

[...And he cannot even remotely sit still. The minute Felix looks again, he's crouched in the chair. Another glance and he's under the chair. Then he's standing next to the chair. Then he's lying with his stomach on the chair.

And then abruptly he realizes he has to stay still--]

Ah.

[He freezes with one leg on the chair, one off it. This is literally the worst pose he could've chosen. He's gonna fall.]

felassan | dragon age | valet

[sidenote]

I. valet

+aristocrat
[As far as Valets go, one could do worse than Felassan. Credit him this: despite his quirks and his insistence on needling, on offering unsolicited "advice" at the most inconvenient of times, he is... diligent. Diligent in his dedication to his employer and laissez-faire with regards to just about everything else, which explains among other things his surprisingly casual and upbeat attitude about breaking into this chateau.

Perhaps it is something of a comfort, to have a valet so attentive and yet so seemingly unconcerned with the possibility of permanent damage from these wounds. Or perhaps it is simply annoying, the way he wanders the room and touches this and that, humming occasionally and leaving things out of place, the way he shakes out his heavy cloak more than once before he leaves it draped over a chair. Despite his attitude he is keenly aware of the door, in case of intruders-- further intruders, details-- and his concern is earnest when he tends to the wounds and then, leaning over the bed, says:]

Shall I whistle you a little tune? Or can you sleep without needing to be told twice?

[He's helping.]


+whoever in storyland
[Or: Felassan is quite content to settle in an armchair, put his feet up, and not move for the rest of the evening. Really, he is. So it's someone else's persistent wandering in and out of this apartment that he's watching idly, fiddling with some knicknack or other he's picked up from somewhere in the room. The whims of the Chateau are pretty much immediately obvious the first time he looks up in surprise at the same person who'd just left coming back in just as surprised as he is, so-- well, you know, he's content to just loiter. Just loitering sounds pretty fantastic.

He wiggles his little trinket at his wandering pseudo-companion, the next time they come in the door.]

That makes four. [He has been doing this every time, yes.] Will you listen to reason and pull up a chair, now, or will I have to see how many tours it takes before you wear a hole in the carpeting?

[He might also say this while not sitting around like a lazybones but instead squinting at the vague portraits, because at least that mystery doesn't involve running in circles. Hmm!]

II. pizza party

[What is a pizza. He doesn't know, and looking at said pizzas for as long as he has been (several minutes) has not helped him to find out. Who puts food into boxes like this? What is a "Surge soda"?

It's all a little much, but Felassan can be encountered anywhere milling arond this pizza party, very possibly at the precise moment that he stoops to pick a dandelion, flicks a bit of dirt off of it, and sticks the stem in his mouth for a little nibble.

It's a mistake. It's a horrible mistake, but the look he gives whoever has witnessed this suggests that perhaps this particular dandelion is just as good as whatever a pizza is, at least until he spits it out.]

Just trying to see how much of this is actually happening.

[this is a pro strat, don't question him.]

How did you do in... [he gestures vaguely, with the dandelion,] all that? I must admit to being impressed, though I would not go so far as to say that I am pleased.

III. misc

[The Wildcard (tm)... hit me with whatcha got. He's a very elfy elf who doesn't wear shoes because Dragon Age, for reference.]

II

[bluemackerel]

[Osamu watches as this man tries to eat a dandelion. Huh. And then he's informed that he's trying to see how much of this is actually happening, and nods slowly. He understands. Truly a pro strat. He gets you.

He shrugs at the next question.]

I died. But I suppose I didn't actually die, because I'm here. Unless this is the afterlife, but I highly doubt it. There wasn't much for me to do, really. I just had to pose for a portrait. That's all. Somehow, that killed me.

I'm impressed, but not really pleased, either. That's a good way to put it.

Osomatsu Matsuno | Osomatsu-san | maiden

[relieable]

I) modelling?

Uhh... Hello?

[how did he get here? where is here? Osomatsu pokes his head into the Painter's Studio meekly. he's wearing a veil on his head, but, otherwise, he just looks like a normal young man. he probably shouldn't be here, and, yet, he's compelled to sit down for some reason. also he might have a husband now? why does that thought pop into his head?

it's so... weird in here. smells like paint, dark. he tilts his head at the empty canvas for a second before it clicks. someone's going to paint his picture, right? immortalize him! nice. or... not so nice at all? he doesn't really know why seeing the paints and canvas fill him with dread. perhaps he should leave? no, he should stay? no? conflicted!]

II) only food now

[well, that was fun. and, by fun, we mean not fun at all. Osomatsu is glad to get out of that stuffy room. he was literally wasting away in there! he doesn't know how he got there in the first place, but, it's fine. someone mentioned a pizza party?

he goes to the courtyard where other people are and makes a beeline for the food. pizza! hooray!]

Man, I'm starving!

[he would be, after that whole ordeal. where is he, though? unimportant. food is more important. he grabs a paper plate and takes maybe three slices to start off with. pepperoni and sausage for now, though he doesn't realize that he can change the toppings]

III) wildcard

[for everything else. all prompts are open to everyone! i will match your format, if you'd like. feel free to poke lovebakery to plot, or just reply here]

II

[kiboutraveler]

Niisan! Osomatsu-niisan!

[Whoawhoawhoa. After that weird experience, it's nice to see someone familiar!!!

He bounds over, his sleeves flapping at his sides.]

I thought I was here alone!!! But I'm not! You're here! ...You don't know what's going on, do you? Do you?

Jyushimatsu Matsuno | Osomatsu-San | Maiden

[kiboutraveler]

[I]
[Jyushimatsu opens his eyes with a start. And he's sitting on a stool, and he's not quite sure why, but he feels compelled to stay there. He's pretty happy about it, though. Someone important told him to do that! That's what matters, right? Someone important!

And in came that important person now. Ah. He gets it now! It's a painting! He's gonna be part of a painting. He beams.]

You really think I'm worthy of being your muse??? Right???

[He presses his sleeves to his cheeks. He loves this.

Good luck getting him to sit still enough to paint him.]

[II]
[There's a flower field outside!!! Jyushimatsu bolted outside, taking a deep breath of the vibrant, open air...and dove straight in.]

BANZAIIIIIIII!

[Flower petals fly everywhere. He howls with laughter, and then sneezes.]

This is fun! This is too fun!!!

[He's rolling in the middle of these petals, humming to himself. At least he's making the best of things.]

[III]
[Well, that was...kinda fun? Mostly weird. Kinda fun! But weird. Mixed bag there. But hey, pizza party. This is what results in Jyushimatsu uncapping a bottle of Sprite, pouring it into his mouth with his cheeks puffed out, and then marching over to the pizzas. He then swallows that entire mouthful of soda before stuffing his cheeks with pizza.

He looks like a chipmunk.

But hey, he's enjoying himself. He looks back, seeing someone in line behind him, and he steps aside, beaming, pointing down to the pizza with one sleeved hand.

Here go. Have some.

It's pineapple.
(Sorry.)]

[IV - WILDCARD]
[PM me or just toss me something, I can roll with it. Thanks.]

III

[inlikethebrume]

[He may look like a chipmunk with all that food but he's also polite. While Mira is fine waiting in line, it's when Jyushimatsu gestures for her to go ahead and grab a slice.]

Oh! Thank you!

[Now she has no idea about the pizza discourse involving pineapple. Which is why she takes a slice without a second thought and tries it out.]

Mmm, this is quite good!

[Nom nom, thanks for recommending this to her, it's good.]

V | DMC5 | MAIDEN (May 1st)

[summonere]

I will match any format, I just tend to type TLs as prose for ease. Here's some art for V's Portrait to find in the Hall. PM me any questions.

---

The tower (artists)

His face reminds him of his mother's. Her green eyes, strong nose and brows, the long oval of her face. He's been known to snear at her picture, or place it face down on a desk. Now he finds it pleasant, almost nostalgic. As if he somehow better understands her place in all of this now that he too has a husband and the promise of a life together. He tries to remember when that ever became a desire of his, but the oppressive air of the studio dulls all real attempts.

He lifts a hand to push his hair off his face frowning, only realizing he was meant to sit still (and sit and sit and sit--). He could apologize but that rankles his personality, even now.

"What if I spirited you away outside for a while?" he asks instead. He offers a weary smile as he jokes, "Come away o human child?"

The field (ota)

His voice is sonorous, soothing and pleasant as it drifts on the wind. He reads poetry aloud to the flowers, the grass, the trees:

"The sun rises,
The goldenrod blooms,
I drift in fields of summer,
My is adrift in my body,
It shines in my heart and hands, in my teeth,
It shines up at the old crane
Who holds out his drainpipe of a neck
And creaks along in the blue.

And the goldenrod shines with its life, too,
And the grass, look
The great field wavers and flakes,
The rumble of bumblebees keeps deepening.
A phoebe flutters up,
A lark bursts up all dew."

Pizza....... (ota)

He looks at the string of cheese dangling at the tip and at the shimmering grease. Then he wrinkles his nose with apparent distaste.

"Disgusting," he mutters and then tosses the slice back where it came from. He'd rather starve.

Wildcard (ota)

Go nuts.

pizza

[mercyful]

"Oh, I don't know," says a lightly accented voice. "The vegetarian option isn't bad. Far less grease as well." The blonde takes another bite, carefully balancing the paper plate close to her mouth so her veggie toppings don't spill all over her.

Gwendolyn | Odin Sphere | OTA! | Valet

[royaliability]

Valet.
1. for all the aristocrats out there in storyland, she's here for you
[When it comes to loyalty, Gwendolyn can't be beat. She always acts efficiently to carry out her duties, while doing what she thinks is best for the situation...perhaps a little recklessly at times, but it's just how she is. So now thrust into the position of dutiful valet, she had no problem whatsoever forcing entry into the chateau so that you might seek some proper shelter for the night. Depending on how bad those wounds are, she may simply act as a shoulder to lean on and guide you to bed, or she may straight up carry you princess style. Don't be fooled by her frame, she's a soldier. She's trained for...well, not carrying people, but working is all about transferable skills.

Unfortunately, the advantages also come with the fact that she's extremely devoted to her duty. She will not allow someone under her care to act recklessly, which is why she's sat next to her current partner as they lay in bed, hands folded in her lap.]

Now do get some rest, won't you? I will keep watch here. Be they cruel or kind, nobody who intrudes on us here shall disturb you.

[She's watching you as much as she's watching the door, you curious little scamp.]

2. everyone else
[She's asleep.

It was a valiant effort to door watch all night, but even she needs sleeps now and again. The aristocrat she'd been so careful to care for is probably gone, but at least she's resting.

For now.

Those are the ears of a trained soldier. Even the creak of a floorboard's enough to--]

-YOU SHOULD BE IN BED! [She jumps out of her chair, staring at you. Looking to the empty bed. Looking around the room.] ...ah.

Library gardens
1.
[More than her own safety - though how she's here, why she's here, when did she arrive and how is she meant to leave are important, don't misunderstand - her missing spear is what matters most. The weapon's a holy relic of her kingdom, but equally as important to her is the sentimental value, having been passed onto her by her dying sister. It's all she has left of her.

It's why Gwendolyn is walking from person to person, searching in between, and approaching with one thing on her mind.]

Good day. If I might have a moment of your time?

Pizza
[So, she doesn't know what Pizza is, but she's 1) not where she should be right now, 2) can't find her spear and 3) even under normal circumstances, she has the appetite of someone 1000x times her size. Put all these factors together and you have a very slender, elegant young woman...

...on her 5th pizza. Come one, come all and witness how she isn't slowing down. She's a very careful, tidy eater though; she may have a black hole for a stomach, but she is a princess after all. Manners and all that.]

1

[bluemackerel]

[Osamu is eating a piece of pepperoni pizza when the young lady approaches. He finishes his bite as he hears her voice, turning towards her with a small smile.]

Good day. You might, yes. What's going on, miss?

Ruggie Bucchi | Twisted Wonderland | ota (Painter)

[ruggie]

Artist's Tower I: Fighting a Compulsion

[Something was wrong. Something was wrong and something was telling him how to try and fix it and the conflict inside his own head was causing a splitting pain. In the end, he decides to flee the musty studio and see what he can find. The field of wildflowers doesn't calm his nerves but it gives him a direction, some way to fight against the force that was clawing away at his mind, and he intended to take it.]

[So he's picking wildflowers. He's dragging his hands over flowering buds and trying to see if any of them share the telltale signs of being edible. Every now and then his eye catches sight of one that makes him think "Oh, they would like this."]

[And his heart twists because who is they and why is he so sure about it?]

[His ears perk up as he lifts his head to glance around the flower field. Are they... here? Are they responsible for what he's feeling? If he beats them up will it stop? No, no, his heart definitely says not to thrash them. Why?]

Artist's Tower II: Lost to Compulsion

[He found it.]

[Ruggie found what was gnawing at his heart. When the first brush of paint went over a canvas it was a feeling of relief like he'd never known. It was like a first meal after ages of starving. It felt so good that all of his suspicions from earlier were swept away in a wave of euphoria. The stale air of the studio didn't even bother his nose anymore.]

Ah, this one, this one, this one, [his energy has gotten fully channeled into his role. There are three easels set up that he darts between according to his whims. He's using the brushes but also occasionally seems to get "creative" by smudging a bit with his thumb or fingers. The result is turning himself into a mess and creating a kind of beautiful "mess" on the paintings. The shapes are obscure but there seems to be a grassland with a far-reaching sky, something that looks like a throne, and a snowy, distant mountain. There's an easel in the back that's reserved for them.]

C'mon! It feels like I sent out for that marigold yellow ages ago... where is it?

[and a growl comes up, showing how quickly he could turn from satiated to hungry animal again]

The Library: Fuck it, let's get Pizza

[... you know, all that was embarrassing and he'd rather not think about it.]

[Ruggie likes to think of himself as a sensible, concrete-minded kind of guy. The Painter's passion was way too crazy. That was something that better suited like, Rook. Not him. He's perfectly content to eat pizza and lounge about in the sun. He's thinking about a way out, sure, but he's also thinking about how he's not getting out without a full stomach.]

[So, catch him eating or catch him after he's emptied like five pizza boxes and is laying flat on the ground and feeling like he's going to hurl. There really was no limit to the pizza, huh.]

I

[savanaclaw]

[There he is.

...Which is a very, very strange thought to have about Ruggie, of all people. Yeah, sure, he's one of the only people who Leona would really want to see when cast into a new place, but that fluttering of his heart and tug of excitement was... new.

Regardless, he's very quick to close the distance between them and, ears flattening for just a moment, he bumps his head up under his chin as he winds his arms around his waist. All affection, no real annoyance.]

You're actually outside for once.

[...For once? They're outside like. All the time? But there's something tugging at the back of his mind that, no, Ruggie spends all his time in that musty tower instead, and... picturing him in there feels more Right than picturing him on the maglift pitch, at least right now.]

Good to see you.

[Now that is genuine, both from the Leona-Leona part of his mind and the odd, nagging tug that's telling him things he knows are false but feels are true.

...He just might not have said it out loud any other day.]

Shen Qingqiu (Shen Yuan flavour) | SVSSS | The Aristocrat

[youcanyouup]

【THE CHATEAU】
Waking up in an unfamiliar bed feeling like absolute garbage is a more familiar experience for Shen Qingqiu than he would personally prefer, but just kind of finding yourself in an unfamiliar bed with no clear memory of waking up, or having been asleep at any point at all -- and also still feeling like absolute garbage -- is pretty new to him! He blinks accusingly into the dimly candlelit room, but no explanation is forthcoming -- and also, while he vaguely considers the possibility that he might have died again, his thoughts kind of skim away from trying to work out how he got here. Instead his attention is drawn to the decor...

i) He sits up in bed wincing, but he's increasingly preoccupied enough that the pain of his injury seems like... something he's used to dealing with, maybe? It doesn't matter. The paintings matter. It occurs to him that there's someone else here with him, more as if he's remembered than a realisation, and he leans over to elbow the Valet rudely in the ribs.

"Hey," Shen Qingqiu snaps. "Wake up. I need you to get one of those picture frames down for me."


ii) Or maybe that doesn't work out, and for whatever reason he's left to his own devices -- which sees him dragging himself out of the musty, antique bed and making his way across the room to peer at the paintings. Leaning heavily against the wall in his Victorian invalid nightgown, he does look like he might fall over... but it would probably be kind of funny if he did, so don't feel obliged to help him out.

【THE LIBRARY】
Shen Qingqiu stumbles a little as he abruptly finds himself freed from that gothic horror experience, and then stands there a moment taking in his new surroundings. He takes his fan from his belt automatically, so that he can hide some of his dumbfounded reaction at suddenly finding himself somewhere that looks... modern? He pats himself down on a wild impulse, but he does seem to still be Shen Qingqiu, multiple layers of ornate xianxia robes and everything. That can't be right?

iii) He approaches the nearest person, fanning himself lightly and internally panicking.

"Excuse me." He smiles over the top of his fan. There's a veneer of calm about him that's mainly ruined by the fact that he hasn't bothered to make sure the person he's asking looks more like they belong in this kind of setting than he does. "This is going to seem like a stupid question, but do you know the date?"


iv) Shen Qingqiu has sunk to the ground on the grass a little way away from the pizza tables. There is a paper plate in his hands with a slice of pepperoni on it. He is staring at it almost numbly.

"I haven't seen pizza for three years," he mumbles.

ooc // feel free to reply with brackets if you prefer, i'll match format!

pizza party

[nocannobb]

Shang Qinghua has already flopped down on his stomach nearby, holding his own plate in front of him like an altar offering. There are actually tears standing in his eyes. He's spent a literal lifetime away from any world where pizza exists. In all his years of cultivating, this is the closest thing he has ever had to a religious experience.

"Bro, you don't have to tell me. It's been like, decades for me." How many? Hahahaha who knows how old they actually are. Shang Qinghua lifts a slice from his plate to shove it into his mouth, but he stops, his expression shifting into something apprehensive. "Do you get the feeling that something fucked up's gonna happen the second you take a bite? Like, I dunno, this all turns out to be some fucked up illusion and it turns out the pizza was a lie?"

Leona Kingscholar | Twisted Wonderland | Maiden

[savanaclaw]

I ⬡ No Way I'm Going Inside ⬡ Tower

[The scent of wildflowers was nearly overpowering, and had prompted Leona to duck inside only briefly, though the twist in his gut at seeing all the art supplies strewn about sent him right back outside a moment later.

He'd blame it on the musty air, the darkness, the acrid smell of turpentine. He could deal with flowers, if that was the alternative.

There's an odd spring in his step, too, as he makes his way through the field, tail swaying and curling behind himself until... there. That's the spot. The sun is just right, the ground is angled just so, and... he flops, fully intending on taking a nap right there, especially if his darling wasn't going to join him.

Wait. His darling?

...It's probably nothing.]

II ⬡ ...So I Guess I Went Inside ⬡ Tower

[He's been convinced to come in to the small, musty room. He's been convinced to exist in the space with the terrible, chemical smells, to take his place on the uncomfortable little stool, to suffer through that awful twist of hate in his gut, all for his beloved's happiness.

But what about his? He's been sitting there for hours, with his husband's face hidden behind the canvas, and he's exhausted.

He feels like pleas have gone on deaf ears before, but... once more couldn't hurt, right?]

When will we get out of here, anyway? Let's take a break...

III ⬡ Forget Death, Only Pizza Now. ⬡ Library

[So that was uh. Not at all a pleasant experience? And now he's somewhere else, which is very much not back home, or at school, and. Well.

...At least there's food.

Sorry, were you eyeing that meat lover's pizza? Because there's now one very, very irritated lion snatching the whole box right from under your nose, because hey, why go through all that effort of looking through all those other boxes when the one he wants is right there?]

IV ⬡ Wildcard

[Want something else? Hit me up, I'm down for anything!]

1

[tebasaki]

[There's only so much poking around in dark, dusty corners he can tolerate. Hawks prefers a bird's eye view... though without his wings, there's only so far he can get.

He's made his way outside, trudging through the field feeling absolutely leaden. The wind breaks against him, instead of carrying him away-

Not to mention the aching wound on his abdomen - that's no big deal.

Rather than bemoan his state, he finds the best hill to stand on for a vantage and holds up his hands. Framing the home between his fingers, Hawks means to figure out where he is. Instead his mind wanders almost immediately: who lived here, and what caused them to disappear?

He needs to change his angle. In a rush to find a new position, he trips. With a brief stumble and hop, Hawks catches his balance and turns to apologize.] Oh, sorry about that!

[With a quick wave, he turns back to the house.]

misa amane | death note | aristocrat!

[lifespanned]

I. escaping valets

[ Is she supposed to be in bed? Most definitely. But is she? Absolutely not! Her wounds are such that it's difficult to walk, not without leaning on something or stopping to rest every minute or so— and yet still, as soon as she gets out from under the constant vigilance of a Valet, she's slipping out of bed to peek around The Chateau. It's so very romantic here; the paintings! The architecture! The loneliness of it all! She's so very drawn to it, inspired even, that she just wants to embrace it as much as she can while still alive.

Maybe you're just an innocent bystander who catches sight of her when she's leaning a bandaged arm up against a wall, trying to catch her breath, or maybe you're the Valet in charge of her and have finally caught up to her escape - but either way, her very lax response is the same: ]

Aw, come on! I thought I laid a good trap back there for you...

[ She's referring to her very elaborate set-up that she left in her bed to try and fool the Valet into thinking she was still resting and not out and about: she took the time to stuff the bed with pillows to make it seem as though she was there. She even left her shoes in the room and is walking around barefoot!! ]

II. art destroyer

[ Once she's escaped far enough to make it out of The Chateau, it's onto the Painter's Tower - and there's about a hundred and one things to catch her attention there, the first and foremost being these lovely paintings that seem to be set around! Some are in progress, or actually, most of them probably are. Thing is, she's so curious about them, that she just can't help herself from getting closer, precariously closer, to give the painting a detailed look. ]

Do you know who painted this? [ She asks, not even looking at whoever else is in the room. It could be any of the Characters in this story - as she's barely paying attention to anything that isn't her own preoccupations at the moment. ] It's so stunning. Oops!

[ Case in point to her delirium and absentmindedness, she'd been pointing a finger right onto the canvas out of wonder, but it isn't until she's dragging it down just for kicks that she realizes the paint is still wet. A good amount of those brush strokes are absolutely ruined! ]

III. little caesar's voice

We're supposed to eat this?

[ Hello?? Feast your eyes on one very stubborn girl, who is sticking up her nose at the freshly procured pies. ]

I'm not eating that. And you shouldn't either! It's so bad for you that it's not even funny!

[ She barely knows you, but she's hugging her arms around yours to try and tug you away from all this pizza-partying, presumably to find something healthier and better to eat. ]

III

[kiboutraveler]

[So, Jyushimatsu opened up a box to find pineapple pizza - delicious, a delicacy, really - and oop. Immediately, before he knows it, there's a girl wrapping her arms around his, complaining about how unhealthy it is.]

It's bad, but it tastes good! I mean--it's a pizza party! We're kinda defying the point by doing this even if you're right!

[He's not really fighting back, but he is distressed.]

Jack Howl | Twisted Wonderland | OTA | Aristocrat

[unleashedpup]

A. The Chateau

[The first thing he does is curse when he wakes up to find himself injured in a place he doesn't even recognize. Nothing smells familiar and Jack finds his ears laying flat against his head. Growling, he gets out of bed regardless and starts to look around, sniffing at the unfamiliar. Nothing is helping him though. Everything is...wrong. He hates it, his tail twitching behind him in annoyance.

Storming out of the room, he's shocked to find that when he enters another door it's the same room again. Eventually, he realizes he smells another person which means he goes right to them.]

Where am I? What have you done to me? I'll kick your ass if you're the one who kidnapped me!

[Yes. He's yelling. Wouldn't you?]

B. The Library - Grounds

[If you're on the grounds you'll notice a very large white wolf wandering around sniffing everything in sight. He doesn't appear to be dangerous? But also that is a huge white wolf.

Who is now looking right at you.

Welp...what will you do?]


C. The Library - Pizza Party

[...So, after all that he's hungry. He's a growing boy and the food smells amazing. Plus it doesn't seem like it's dangerous. Everyone seems to be eating it. Good enough for him at this point.

Jack's snagged a couple boxes for himself and is sitting at his own table with a thing of soda, eating right out of the boxes themselves. He glares at the first person who gets close. Well, it looks like a glare. Honestly it's just his default expression for this moody pup.]

What?

[He takes another bite of...is that pear on his pizza?]

Pizza... puppy...

[savanaclaw]

[Yeah, that was... that was a lot. Dying? Not pleasant. At all. Definitely not going to be talking about that one.

Especially not with his way too earnest dorm mate over there, munching away at his -shudder- fruit-ridden pizza. Really, what kind of carnivore was he?

Regardless? Leona has his own pizza box, his own soda, and now his own seat across the table from Jack.]

So you're here, too.

Rufus Shinra | Final Fantasy VII (Advent Children) | the Aristocrat

[ambitiousblond]

i. the Chateau

[It's frustrating to end up in the same rooms no matter where he tries to go in this house. House, prison, whatever it was. The candlelight isn't sufficient to be able to tell where he's going in dark corridors and it seems, for now, he's alone.

Eventually, he decides that he's getting nowhere by wandering around in circles, perhaps it's time to see if he can learn anything from the apartment he seems to be confined to for the time being. As far as places he's woken up unexpectedly in, this is by far not the worse one.

The details of the room tell him later, the decoration leaves something to be desired but that's not his biggest concern at the moment. He's not sure why he's here, what his captors hope to get from him which makes him laugh silently to himself. He can play this role, the key is staying alive until when one of the Turks inevitably finds him at just the right moment.

But his thoughts are interrupted when he heard the sound of someone opening the door from the other side. He instinctively reaches for the nearest object that looks like it has some weight, sliding it just behind him as he sits on the bed, just in case.]

Don't be shy since you didn't seem to think it necessary to knock before coming in.

ii: Garden Party

[It looks like he's not getting into this mysterious library at the moment so he has to settle for exploring the rather nice garden. He's not used to spending a lot of time out with growing things, nature, the whole thing but it's almost peaceful despite the murmuring of people talking nearby.

He ignores the pizza- he doesn't eat with his hands and it looks incompatible with his white suit but he randomly selects one of the bottles to pour himself a drink so it didn't give away the fact that he was listening to the conversations around him intently, trying to pick up what information he was able to. He wasn't able to pick out any familiar voices or faces so far but he would be wary nonetheless.

After nearly pouring the drink from the bottle in his hand, he shakes it as he moves away from the table to move through the crowd. It's only then he notices that the strange drink he's poured is some kind of bright green, almost something similar to mako.]

This cannot be safe to drink.

iii. Wildcard

[Feel free to drop a prompt of your own here! I can be reached at illuminations if you would like to run anything by me.]

i

[purport]

[ And who should greet him but a slight, young-looking fellow in dark armor wielding of all things, a tray covered with all the trappings of afternoon coffee. Curiously, he has no trouble at all balancing the tray, loaded as it is. Neither does his armor so much as clink as he moves, suggesting something else altogether.

Peculiar as he may appear, thus enters a valet. His idea of looking after someone is, well... ]

You'll have to excuse me, the coffee is only at its best for so long.

[ He should know, after an eternity concerning himself with this one very specific craft. Call it a hobby. Call it an obsession. Regardless, the aroma drifting through the air bespeaks the fruits of his millennia of effort as he sweeps into the room with graceful, if overly swift steps. ]

Did you desire the fireplace be lit? I doubt you've need for that poker, otherwise.

Ogata Hyakunosuke | Golden Kamuy | The Painter

[whatteam]

The Tower

[It's the landscape that first draws Ogata's attention. Alone in the tower, mind not yet twisted by the story, he's perched in the window. Without a gun, his hands flex slowly - missing the weight. The advantage he'd be reveling in, up so high.

Instead, he's tucked a painter's knife in his belt. Whatever measly protection it offers could make all the difference.

When someone enters, and he does more than turn to look. Ogata abandons the window for the painter's stool. Odd, he forgets to smile and simply stares as the newcomer draws closer.]

Get ready. [For... what?]

The Wildflower Field

[The pair - painter and muse - sit in the picturesque meadow, close as any lovers would be. Ogata's hand, stained with hues he has no sense for using, lingers near his partner's. Perhaps it'd be a romantic moment, but for how obviously his attention is elsewhere.

Dull eyes trace a butterfly as it flutters from flower to flower. It flits closer, then farther, then closer again until it lands on the "maiden's" cheek.

He leans closer, lips parting like he might be thinking to kiss his "wife" as if he's about to eat the insect. Then, suddenly, he strikes - an failed attempt to snatch the thing of beauty between his fingers.

It flies away, unaware of its peril.]

Pizza Party

[What is he supposed to do here?

Without a gun slung over his shoulder, trapped in yet another idyllic scene with total strangers, Ogata gravitates towards the only element he's familiar with. Food.

Though, he's not sure what this sharp-smelling b...read...?? is. With a slice of sausage pizza in hand, he lingers on the periphery of the food table. One bite in, and he's left staring into the middle distance.

This stuff's fatty. Not terrible, not good. He has nothing to say about it. So when someone passes just close enough for him to speak with without first getting their attention he asks-]

Who made this? [Raising the pizza to eye level - really unnecessary - to indicate what he's asking about.]

Pizza pizza

[savanaclaw]

Eh?

[Someone's... talking to him? Well, of course they are. But the fact that they expect him to know who made the pizza is... laughable.

And the only reason he doesn't laugh at him outright is the fact that he's presently biting into a slice of pizza himself. No staring into the middle distance or lamenting the lack of quality food here, nope. It's free, and there's meat on it, and no veggies, so he's content. Ish.

Still wishing he knew where they are, but you know. Food first. Dying takes a lot out of a guy.]

Fuck if I know.

[And just to punctuate how annoyed he is at the sheer audacity that he was asked such a thing, his ears lower somewhat, and his tail flicks. Clearly, he has better things to do.

Like... eat shitty pizza.

Details.]

James "Bucky" Barnes/Winter Soldier | MCU

[worthallthis]

I. Grand Opening

Hanging back from the door is a large man in a heavy tactical vest, combat pants, and steel-toed boots. He's read the sign, he's done a prowl around the courtyard, and now he's just standing in a silent, wary parade rest, head down but eyes alert. Watching everyone else, marking the entrances to the building, waiting for... something.

He doesn't even really know. He's just uncomfortable and unhappy and uncertain, and so waiting is a default reaction. Something will happen eventually. Even if that something is one of the other people here coming to ask him what the deal is with the creepy way he's tracking their movements or watching them without ever meeting their eyes.


II. Pizza

Eventually someone prods him over to eat something, at least, and he peers into the pizza boxes with something like confusion. "I don't know what this is," he says finally, hoping maybe someone will fill him in on how he's supposed to eat it. The last time he was fed, it was... not this. Not even remotely.

I

[wholeheaded]

Honestly the uniform(?) and guarded-yet-observant behavior draw Glitch in. Yeah, not too long ago when that vibe would've sent him scurrying, but these days? He's willing to approach. With caution.

"Hi, uh, 'scuse me," he says with a hesitant smile and nod. "Are you...security for all this or..."

michael, the distortion | the magnus archives, ep101 spoilers | the valet

[helixhelix]

i. lives that wove a web ( the chateau )

There is something about these paintings.

[He doesn't mean to say it, but it comes out all the same. He's been busying himself with redressing wounds as necessary, and it is very necessary, but now that he's finished the decor seems to be pressing in around him. The walls pull together as though drawn by the paintings themselves.]

[Or maybe it's just that he's tired. It's been a very long day. He glances over to the figure in the bed — or any visitors who may have entered — wiping his hands clean on a cloth and deliberately wrenching his eyes away from the paintings.]

They're very ugly, aren't they? [That's all it is, almost certainly.] See, that one looks like you!

ii. inside my haunted head ( the artist's tower )

[The smell of paint permeates. He wrinkles his nose, fans the air. Pulls on draperies, circles the perimeter of the room like a caged animal. Watches the passage of the clouds through the skylight. The longer he stays, the more frustrated he gets, in a way that feels as familiar as the half-finished figures in the paintings.]

[He decides to leave. Takes another step and finds his feet coming down on fresh grass, a breeze whipping his hair away from his face. In the distance, the sea. The sound of it frightens him. Automatically, he takes a step back, and he's in the Tower again, but this time he isn't alone.]

What—

[Disoriented, distracted, discombobulated. He shakes his head.]

A very funny joke. I'm looking for someone. [Someone. Who was it? He doesn't remember.] You really should install some doors.

iii. i'll always— ( the library )

[Outside the door of the Library and in his own role once again, Michael is difficult to look at directly. His shape fractures at the edges, straining the eye. Approached from the right angle, he looks extremely human, a tall man with a lot of blond hair; approached from the wrong angle, he looks like a headache.]

[No matter what, he looks unhappy to be here. Instead of enjoying the party, he's prowling restlessly from one pizza box to another, opening each with Intent and Desire. Inside each box that he opens is a door, heading straight down from the pizza box into an inexplicable somewhere. He peers into each, then slams it shut irritably and moves on to the next. None of them seems to be the correct door, and he is slowly but surely ruining every pizza in the place. Nobody wants a door party.]

[Somewhat later, the headacheability of him seems to have faded somewhat; he looks coherent enough to be recognizably dispirited, frowning slightly as he stares, stares, stares for a very long time into nothing. Anyone caught in the stare may find that it hurts a little, although this at least isn't intentional. He blinks when he realizes, eyes narrowing and shifting to a color like blood seen through stained glass.]

Hi. Hello. I'm looking for someone named Helen. Do you know a Helen? She's playing a practical joke.

iv. wildcard

[Hit me up with anything else!]

the artist's tower

[summonere]

[ Someone is coming down the spiraling stairs at the sound of Michael's voice. Ah, it's the man from the painting. V is much taller than he looked in his portrait, quite tall and slender. He stops before coming all the way off the stairs, a tattooed hand against the stone tower wall. ]

Pardon?

lottie person | snotgirl | the maiden

[oomfies]

01. 𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙩 🖼️


[ Escaping from the Artist's Tower to the Chateau leaves Lottie winded and light headed, but inspired. Not to do any of the arts, but to admire it - admire herself, specifically. She's already unveiled her portrait, unabashedly extravagant and taking up the better part of the wall among the other small (foggier? Because she can't really recall who those people are, but she must know them) paintings hung up.

When she turns, all smiles and sparkles, towards you, the first thing you might notice is that this woman is definitely the one illustrated on the wall. Looking considerably paler, a little frailer, but the glam is all the same. It's easier to see the resemblance when she cutely poses the same way she did for the painting. ]

Doesn't it look amazing? [ Doesn't she look amazing? ] I'm married to talent, you know. Gorgeous work.

02. 𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 🎨


[ Despite the stale, musky air inside the studio, it's comforting. In an odd, sad sort of way. Through the window she sees a meadow of flowers, bright and beautiful - they look fresh, look alive. But when she glances back in the full body mirror, situated for her some ways behind the easel in front of her, she sees someone dull. Boring. But pretty. Gorgeous, the perfect model, if she squints and adjusts her dress just right.

She doesn't really stew on the negative thoughts, because it makes her chest churn and it just feels wrong. So, she focuses on the right! Standing off her stool and wandering over to the unfinished portrait of herself, over to the props piled off to the side.

And whether you're the Painter, or someone else who happened to wander in, Lottie will reach down to pick up a dusty apple off the ground (plastic, but realistic enough to fool anyone who's looking) and ask: ]

What do you think would be a fun subject to draw?

03. 𝙥𝙞𝙯𝙯𝙖 🍕 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮


[ Lottie doesn't particularly realize she's manifesting something into existence, come opening a random ass pizza box. But what she finds there instead of a crappy, greasy, slice of pizza she finds - ]

..Tissues?

[ Tissue paper shaped pizza. That's right, it's just origami'd tissue paper. Why? Because Lottie is going through a fantastic bout of allergies, existing in this garden with all these new smells and new emotions. She looks off to the side, at the person beside her, before laughing awkwardly. ]

Hahahaa.. Crazy, right?

04. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙙
[ feel free to toss anything else my way! 💖 ]

03

[kiboutraveler]

[Jyushimatsu peers into the box. Wh. Is that origami? Immediately, he laughs.]

That's origami! That's super crazy!! How'd you make that? ... Why'd you even make that? It's pretty neat!!!

Roronoa Zoro | One Piece | Aristocrat

[wadoichimonji]

The Chateau

[When Zoro wakes up, from the pain or the fact that he doesn't remember falling asleep he doesn't know, he tries to sit up but his body fails him. He tries to grab his swords, but they're nowhere to be found. Gasping, and forcing himself to sit up, he looks around, trying to find his swords. They're gone.

He could sit there and freak out, or try to leave. So to leave he goes! He stands up with great difficulty, almost passing out as he does, but he manages to walk to the door. The lines of the wood distract him for who knows how long, but when he finally is able to open the door, he walks right into someone else.]

... Sorry.

The Library's door.

[It's closed. Of course it's closed. Zoro sighs, sliding down the door to sit right in front of it. His sides hurt, probably hadn't hurt this much since Kuma, but hell, it hurts so much. He's breathing hard, so he tries to calm down, calm his breathing. At least there's no broken ribs. Yet.

He opens his eye, looking around. It's quite pretty, all considered. Not a bad place to rest, since he won't die, not yet, anyway.

Then he looks to his left, and spot someone.]

Yo, you over there, come here.

Magic Pizza!

[Zoro finally managed to rest enough to get his aching body to behave, so he walked over to the nearest table, and opens the first box he sees. Pizza. Not bad. He takes a slice, humming, it's not really as good as the cook's stuff, but it's food, and he can deal with anything if he's full.

He goes to take a drink with his left hand, but his arm bumps into someone.]

....Sorry, didn't see you there.

[Which is technically not a lie, since that's his blind spot and all.]

Library's door

[inlikethebrume]

Hmm?

[Why was Mira walking around instead of reading? Needed to stretch, thanks body. Rubbing her shoulder, she spots the one calling her next to the door.]

Is something the matter?

yan qing | fate/grand order | valet

[killful]

The Chateau

[The Aristocrat: Serving a master is nothing new, especially one as helpless as this. Yan Qing thinks he almost prefers them this way: needing him, telling him he is everything. But he knows this arrangement is temporary, so he'll milk it all for what it's worth.

Any attempt to explore will be hindered by this handsome man catching you as you fall. You may catch a glimpse of tattoos from under his glove or the cuff of his suit, but if he notices the look in your eyes, he pays it no mind. He gives you a smile, calm and gentle. He can be patient.]

Oh, it's hardly the right time for adventure, miss. [Or master. Whichever you prefer.] Let's go to bed now, shall we?

[His voice is smooth as velvet as he holds your wrist in a firm grip.]

[Everyone else: Any intruder who wanders into the Chateau at a time they shouldn't be will be met by a different sort of smile.]

I'm afraid I must ask you to leave. [Whatever airs he's put on until now begin to fade as he pulls his gloves off, revealing the yin-yang tattoos on the back of his palms.] I really don't wanna get serious...


The Artist's Tower

[Maybe he's here under the Aristocrat's orders. Maybe he's here to look into things himself. Maybe he's just here to kill time. Either way, something leads Yan Qing to the Painter. He slips into the room without a sound, only making himself known once he leans over your shoulder and speaks:]

Damn, that's a good one. How much you think they go for? Wish I could shit paintings for a living.

[Look, the Aristocrat isn't around, so there's no real reason to talk fancy. But he also just tends to speak his mind at the worst times. Hmmm. Maybe he could steal a painting? What his master doesn't know won't hurt him.]


Library

[Yan Qing's just sitting up on a tree, watching the crowd from above and while drinking soda straight from the 2-liter bottle like a heathen. He likes parties, but this is a new place with new people, so he can't help but be wary. Sometimes, when he's feeling safe (or dangerous — whenever his mood strikes him, really), he'll hang from a branch with his hands free, his face just barely at eye level.]

Hey! How's the pizza? Kinda weird to throw a party in front of a library, if you ask me. Are you gonna eat that?

chateau

[emancipating]

[ so two valets walk into a room. or rather, zagreus wanders into the room for the third time in a row and he's getting threatened. at least, like, that's what he assumes is happening with the removal of gloves? he has the distinct feeling that, perhaps, the tattoos on this guy's hands should mean something in regards to how dangerous he is. but zagreus' self-preservation instincts have never been high to begin with, so, anyway. ]

Believe me, mate, the last thing I want is for you to get serious. And I'd love to be on my way out, except— [ and then he like, walks out the room.

only to reappear a second later. ]

I can't.

sylvain jose gautier, fire emblem: three houses. | the maiden

[acquaint]

the tower; figure drawing 101.

> artists.
[ for all intents and purposes, sylvain is a decent model: he knows what works for him and what doesn't, how to hold himself in a way that makes him look like how people want him to look. a lifetime of flirting around and putting himself on display has its perks, even if it's something he's never enjoyed at all. but that doesn't matter so much in this moment; right now, all that matters is the painter before him, and how he can execute the vision they have in mind. it wars with the greater part of him that wishes he could leave this stifling tower instead. ]

Where do you want me? [ his smile is easy as he undoes the buttons of his cuffs, rolling his sleeves up over his forearms. the first two buttons of his shirt are already loosened, and he thankfully stops there. he's not entirely sure if this is that kind of painting just yet, but hey, it's not as if he really minds either. ] Or will this do it for you?

[ because he's already lounging on the chaise, all long lean lines as he propped his head up with one hand. ]

Tell me how I'm doing, okay? I want this to be good for you too.

> everyone else.

[ or, sylvain has managed to slip out of that stuffy studio and is now wandering about the chateau, exploring whatever he can before he inevitably finds himself coming back to the same room. nice. anyway, there's not much to look at but he does find himself inevitably looking at the portraits hung up, both of himself and others. it's strange to see paintings of himself like this, even if he'd sat through many of them growing up back home. the feeling is still the same, a strange combination of feeling discomfited and completely detached, as if he was looking at a complete stranger. and perhaps he is: the man in the painting looks bright and lively, and yet he looks paler, washed out.

in any case, to anyone else who wanders in, he points to those other paintings that aren't of him. ]

Recognize any of them?

the library.
[ he has no idea what pizza is, but you can bet he's trying every single flavor he can find. like, it's certainly not garreg mach food but it's still good? you can never go wrong with putting cheese on bread, it always tastes good no matter what, but he has also never seen half of these toppings? what is pepperoni? whatever it is, it's pretty good.

it also doesn't take him long to figure out you can just, wish up any kind of flavor? this also requires investigation, so here he is, opening the next box with an Intent and Desire for airmid pike, and lo, here it is: a pizza with chunks of fish meat and sun-dried tomatoes, with mushrooms and spinach thrown into the mix. wild. ]

wildcard.
[ i'm down for absolutely everything and anything. pm or hmu on plurk at wooloos if you wanna chat! ]

chateau

[killful]

[Yan Qing stands up straight, touring Sylvain along the wall of paintings like a valet would. He's dressed for the part, too. I need you to know he's not shirtless. I'm putting that here right now.]

That would be the master of the Musik house, sir. Over the years, Lord Musik has accrued a collection of works dating as far as the Rococo period... [In the middle of it, he snorts.] Nah, I'm just messing with ya. I have no fucking clue.

[He's usually a good actor, but there's no real point in putting up a front right now.]

Usagi Tsukino | Sailor Moon | the Painter

[hershiningheart]

The Studio

[She opens her eyes and there are wildflowers all around her. Usagi can feel her heart beating, her fingers touch the edges of the flowers as she passes through them towards an open door that seems to lead to a studio. Everything is open and unlocked as if it's waiting just for her, everything laid out ready for her to use.

Except, she doesn't know what she's supposed to be doing even though she's picking up the brush before she could think about it.]

Alright, this will be a one of a kind painting by the great artist Usagi!

[She scrunches her face up in concentration as she peeks over at what she's supposed to be painting. How difficult could this be? Some paint here, some paint there, some color for fun and there!

Not really a masterpiece so much as a crude gathering of lines and splashes of paint that had gotten all over the canvas and her in the process.]

And done! What do you think?

PIZZA!!

[Usagi had left the place where she had been before with the hopes and dreams of living out her life with her friends and loved ones only to find herself here but that didn't stop her from smiling as she arrives at the party.

They would want her to be happy, to smile, to put what had happened behind her especially on such a lovely day. And to make it better, there is even free food!

What a lucky day!

She knows this could be a trap of the enemy, she should be doing her job but her stomach grumbles in protest at the thought of resisting the beckoning smell of pizza. Alright, first, food. Second, she will try to be serious and gather information. See, responsible!

Almost instantly she's at the table, picking up a piece of pizza in each hand eagerly before realizing someone next to her seems to be staring. She gives a nervous laugh but doesn't put down the pizza slices.]

You can't blame a girl for wanting pizza when it smells so good!

The Studio

[kiboutraveler]

[Okay, so. He's pretty sure his memory is mistaken when a young lady walks into the room instead of some gruff older guy. Maybe he adopted a little sister, or something. Or maybe this isn't the artist at all. But Jyushimatsu's face scrunches up - not even sitting on the stool - but he peers over her shoulder, looking at the painting as she declares that she's done.]

Kind of abstract, but I like it! You've got a talent, Great Artist Usagi-Chan!

[ehehehe]

lucio | granblue fantasy | valet

[mudpie]

the chateau

[While this is an entirely new place, and unknown at that, and while he knows caution is the key to surviving without his magic should anything go wrong... Lucio believes that this is still quite intriguing. What is an actor-turned-skyfarer to do? Explore, of course!

His little wings bounce slightly as he flits through the hallway, groping about for doorknobs, opening doors and passing through doorways over and over, only to end up back at the foyer. He would have kept attempting to run around still, but he finds he's faced with a guest... and he bows low, as if compelled to do so. But also does so as a greeting-- this is just lower than he originally meant to.]

Welcome, honored guest. [When he rises back to his full, not-inconsiderable height, he has a bright smile on his face.

A young, fresh-faced valet? No, he's much older than one would think, but Lucio is an actor, he knows how to act as something he is not.] You seem tired from your journey, Master-- shall I see you to your rooms?

pizza party

What is pizza? [Lucio muses aloud as he wanders about the tables, peeking at all of the closed boxes and the large bottles of drinks of all colors, comically small wings fluttering behind him as he does so. He's not speaking to anyone in particular, but is certainly speaking.

And now, to someone else.]

Oh, oh! [He looks at someone, a soft smile on his face.] What are you having?

wildcard
[[ choose your own adventure! feel free to PM me if there's something in particular you want to run by me before tagging here. ]]

pizza

[purport]

Isn't pizza a common food among-

[ Sandalphon has grown so accustomed to encountering nothing but strange faces today that he very nearly presses on as though he doesn't recognize that voice. How many people have sounded very bizarrely like Lucifer, after all? But no, as he looks up from his position scowling at a pizza festooned with bright yellow wedges of fruit on it, he sees a familiar face to go with the voice.

Not only that, an absurd pair of chubby little wings, fluttering carelessly as they're wont to do. That's how he's elected to see it anyway, his frown fast souring in a way that only this particular presence can inspire. ]

You. [ It comes out oddly accusatory, because of course it does. ] Why aren't you with the Captain?

[ For that matter why isn't he, but shhh. ]

dimitri alexandre blaiddyd | fire emblem: three houses | aristocrat

[royalboar]

the chateau

[The bandages wound tightly across his middle are visible since his shirt hangs loosely open, hardly presentable for one of his apparent status, as though Dimitri’s just freed himself from bed without care or consideration for himself or anyone around him. (Spoiler: this is true.) And there’s no sign of him turning around and heading back, though it might be a good idea given how unsteady he is on his feet, how his injury has ratcheted up his temperature several notches, flirting with feverish delirium. He meanders down a dark hall with only candlelight to guide his path — evenly-hung portraits line the walls, the source of his burning curiosity.

He wants to inspect them; backed with the wanton desire to explore, even if the sorry state of his body decries the effort. A palm pressed flat against the corridor allows him a moment of respite and balance, though a passing shadow manages to catch his interest. The figure of someone drawing closer in this bleak dark.]

I will not return to my room. [He says it quickly, unprompted, just in case this individual gets the ridiculous idea into their head. Of course, it might not be hard to force him, given his state.] I am tired of those four walls, and I intend to explore these instead.

[His gaze presses forward, down the long corridor with its infinite mysteries.]

Are you not curious? Walk with me.

painter’s studio (outdoors)

[At this point… well, any manner of sense he makes is up for debate. Out here, the sunlight is welcome compared to the endless, stretching shadows of the chateau. Bright floral colors, the sound of the rolling sea so far in the distance. It’s delightful, and what a blessing that he can manage to stand amid the sight and not topple face-first into the ground.]

Let us gather up all of these wildflowers for your paintings. You could do for more still lifes, couldn’t you?

[Are you a painter? Are you not a painter? Well, it’s fine. Dimitri stoops into a crouch, which might have been a mistake if he ever wishes to stand again, but for now… he plucks a wildflower by the stem and offers it up to the other.]

Here, hold this.

pizza party

[What an… interesting spread of food. It’s all rather foreign to Dimitri’s eye, these two-liter bottles of soda and an assortment of pizza on display. And though his curiosity might not be as obtrusive as when he played the part of an aristocrat, it still exists well enough to grab one of the unopened bottles and twist the cap to see what it’s all about—

But as luck would have it, the soda shoots out in a fine spray, then foams at the cap in an embarrassing dribble. This is very, uh, unexpectedly startling, and he crushes the poor, plastic thing in his grip without meaning to. Needless to say, this only makes a bigger mess.]

Forgive me, I—

[Rest in peace, soda bottle. We hardly knew ye.]

You were not— sprayed, were you?

[help]

wildcard

(( ooc; obligatory wild card option! go crazy ))

chateau

[killful]

[Nobles are all so stubborn. Yan Qing's learned to go with the flow; unless it's a matter of life or death, nothing good ever comes out of fighting his employers. Dimitri's behavior is nostalgic. Even without the story's objectives in mind, Yan Qing is compelled to accompany the man. The dim light of his candle lets Dimitri see how the valet of this story shakes his head. He makes little effort to hide his amusement as he offers his arm for support. Dimitri desperately looks like he needs it.]

If that will please you, my lord.

[His choice of words are a little off, but he doesn't think he's entirely wrong.]

But let's not stay for too long, shall we? You really need the rest.

Moira Kinross | Marvel 616 | Aristocrat

[uncannylife]

Chateau

No stranger to curiosity , nor to injury-induced delirium, Moira clutched her blankets tightly around her as she shambled around the room in a flurry of ill-advised activity. Her feet padded along the carpet, her slim frame made bulky by bandages and the tight-held wrappings, and still she shivered. Fever chills gripped her, keeping her from traveling too far, but fortunately the gallery of portraits on the walls of the room kept her from going too far.

She reached out towards the painting of the Maiden, fingers grazing the cherry-wood frame and scraping down it. Her nostrils flare in frustration as she puzzles over it, and over the portrait to the right, her gaze hazy and unfocused. She does this to the next painting, and the next...clearly growing more annoyed at each. A bald man in a wheelchair, an older gentleman with white hair in a white suit, a young woman with brilliant red hair, and others catch Moira's eye, each one getting a lingering glance.

"Why...can't I remember you?" she murmurs, clearly confused before turning to whoever else is in the room.

"Do you know these people?" she asks, voice suddenly firm, the faint lilt of a Scottish accent giving her words a singsong quality.


Artist's Tower (Outside)

Less active now, Moira can be found seated on a garden bench, hands folded in her lap. Her gaze flits from person to person, intensely scrutinizing each individual she spots, but she doesn't rise. Exhausted from merely the trip out here, she knows better than to give into her urge to get up and pester people, but that doesn't mean she's any less intrigued by those around her.

"Excuse me," she calls to someone that seems unattached that wanders too close. "Do you have a moment?"


The Library

"Pizza..." Moira murmurs, meandering by the table with a plate in hand. "And a library that I've never heard of. How unusual."

Her curiosity not sated by the completion of the story, she was left both worried and unsatisfied. How had she gotten here, and how had whoever brought her here even known how to find her? She was careful, beyond careful, and this experience was only serving to heighten her paranoia. Being exposed like this was the last thing she wanted, but she supposes she can come up with an excuse or two if anyone recognizes her. So, may as well make the best of it.

Eventually relenting to the rumbling in her stomach, she gathers a couple of slices of plain cheese pizza and slips off to find someone to talk to. It doesn't really matter who, any conversation is better than none.

"Hello there," she says in greeting. She's a slim woman with reddish hair, perhaps 5'7" and dressed in green tweed with a white tam perched on her head. Moira's attire doubtless betrays her Scottish heritage even before mouth opens, and the lilt to her words makes it all the more obvious.

"What do you make of all this?"


Wildcard

[ooc: Feel free to hit me up for something else! PM me if you want to plot!]

Valet? Bucky Barnes plays a good mother hen

[worthallthis]

"Miss." The large fellow who's been looking after Moira comes in at just the wrong time. His left arm, though hidden by a jacket and glove, whirrs mechanically when he lifts it to her shoulder, pulling the blanket around her higher against her neck. "You should be in bed. Not worrying about the paintings."