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

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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.]

[acquaint]

Lord Musik, huh?

[ sylvain chuckles. he doesn't know what rococo is, but that's fine. he's more interested in that drop of gravitas and that switch from something much less formal despite the way yan qing is dressed. ]

Had me going for a bit, there. I was hoping to find out who so generously decided to house all of us.

[ now that he's not being a model and slowly wasting away in that stupid tower, there's a bit more clarity to this whole thing even though he can hardly see anything to make note of it. it's all pretty suss. ]

[killful]

That makes two of us. It looks like the head of the household hasn't shown up yet, and while what I really should be doing is kicking you out, I don't think that's gonna stop ya from coming back in.

[ Besides, this guy seems okay. Yan Qing jerks a thumb toward the corridor behind him. ]

You wanna go look at the rest of the paintings? It gets kinda lonely when you walk past 'em the sixth time.

[acquaint]

What? Me? [ sylvain puts a hand to his chest, brown eyes wide with surprise. ] I'm innocent, I promise. I'm here just to escape my artist, you see. Sometimes a guy needs to stretch his legs a little after lounging on a chaise for a day.

[ look at this charming smile. he's full of shit, but anyway. ]

But by all means, please. Show me these paintings. Better yet, [ he lowers his voice, as if someone else could listen in on them at any moment. ] Keep me in this chateau, so I've an excuse not to go back to that tower.

[killful]

[ Yan Qing rubs his chin and pretends to think about it. ]

Hmm! I do like being the hero to someone's damsel in distress. Well, alright. I got some time to kill and this uniform's killin' me, but I'll show ya around. Call me Yan Qing! And you're...

[ Wait. Now that Sylvain's standing a little closer, Yan Qing leans in and peers at his face. Where has he seen this guy before? Is he a celebrity or something? No, Yan Qing's hotter than him, so he can't be (in his opinion). ]

[acquaint]

[ yan qing leans in and sylvain bats his lashes at him, voice turning sweet and lilting. ]

Oh, Sir Yan Qing, so gallant... so brave! Truly the Goddess has smiled on me for sending me your way.

[ he winks; awful. but perhaps that smile might look familiar, mirrored on one of the paintings down the hall. not that sylvain would want to look at it any more closely; he's had enough of being scrutinized for a lifetime. yan qing is definitely hotter than him though, rest assured. ]

Sylvain Gautier, at your service.

[killful]

Mr. Gautier! [Yan Qing places a hand on his chest and bows, but from the smile on his face, they both know he's just fooling around.] Nah, I think I'll stick with Sylvain.

["The Goddess", huh? If Sylvain's from Earth, it's a weird turn of phrase for him. Anyway, that's not important right now. Yan Qing lights a nearby candle and takes it with him, protecting the flame from whatever draft might come their way.]

Follow me, Sylvain, and I'll give you a tour you'll never forget! Or at least one that'll keep ya busy 'til the husband sees you're gone. Oh, and uh... Don't wander off too far. It gets only gets darker from here on out, and I haven't checked the place for vengeful spirits yet.

[He walks off into the darkness, the dim light of his candle like a glowing sphere floating in the night. Behind Sylvain, the furniture creaks...

That's nothing supernatural. It's just really old furniture.]

[acquaint]

[ wow, a tour guide too... a man of many talents. or maybe yan qing just knows his way around; maybe he's just bored. either way, sylvain goes to follow him, probably looking a little too at ease even with the suspiciously creaky furniture. ]

Vengeful spirits, huh? You don't suppose they're the ghosts of previous masters of the house, do you?

[ sure would explain all the paintings; an old house like this was probably passed down for years. the light of the candle is hardly enough to make out any of the other paintings they pass by, but sylvain supposes that adds to the whole creepy vibe it's going for. ]

[killful]

Most likely, but you never know. I remember the last house the master stayed in. Every night, I'd see not a man, but a girl in a white dress walking down the hall. I'd never seen her before, you know? My master lived alone, and all the maids were asleep. I tried to talk to her once, but she turned around, I blinked, and the next thing I know, she was...

[Yan Qing stops, raising his hand just enough to caution Sylvain not to take a step further.]

You hear that?

pizza crimes

[brothered]

[Has Felix eaten far worse things than this so-called "pizza?" Absolutely. One eats what one must, during a war—but that doesn't mean that Felix is eager to expand his palate now. That certainly isn't why Felix is following his fool of a friend about now, watching him crack open box after box. No. At some point, Felix thinks, they should acknowledge what happened, even if it's via, like, the briefest sort of nod—

—or, you know. Felix can peek around Sylvain's form to see what his latest 'za creation is, because sir? Sir.]

Fish? [Felix likes some fish meals, it's true, but chunks o' fish swimming in grease? Too many vegetables? And is that an entire fish head staring up at him, Goddess above—] What did you do?

[This is an Abomination? Sylvain is canceled.]

[acquaint]

[ they should probably, definitely, talk about that whole painter/maiden thing. or the fact that they were also like, married? and that sylvain looked basically like he did before the war? it's not that sylvain isn't confident in his looks, but he still misses that bit of baby fat he had all over. five years on the front lines and it's like he aged twenty years. anyway, he's also not going to touch on the bit about them being in love because that's. well.

anyway. ]

Wait, it actually worked? [ he's laughing as he opens the box fully, exposing that fish head in all its... fishy glory. ] That's a whole Airmid Pike, wow. Okay, hold on, let me try again.

[ because he's reaching for another box, glances at felix with an odd focused sort of intent in his gaze and then looks back down at the box. the awful creation is revealed when he opens it: pizza with roasted rabbit meat. that's it. just what felix likes. ]

[brothered]

[Felix and Sylvain have the infamous "What are we?" talk as a dead fish stares up at them. Judgmentally. Or: Felix maintains eye contact with the Airmid Pike™ until Sylvain, blessedly, closes the box. It's not that he's squeamish; he's hunted all manner of things, after all, but there is something deeply unsettling about a fish swimming in a sea of greasy cheese. No, thanks...

But while Felix does not know what, exactly, Sylvain doing here, given that Felix hasn't attempted to manifest anything at all—ah. Sylvain opens this new box and Felix leans forward, intrigued despite himself. Meat! Like, real meat. Well, as Felix is but a simple man (haha) with simple tastes:]

...Better.

[He says, grudgingly, as he reaches out to pluck a piece o' meat from the top of this pie. Hmm. Magic food is wack, yes, but surely this rabbit nugget won't kill him. Time for a taste test...

...Verdict: Not Bad, as evidenced by the slight lift of Felix's brows. It could use some pepper, sure, but beggars can't be choosers—and bland rabbit is far better than greasy fish, so let Felix just grab another chunk of meat as he avoids thanking his best bud.]

But I suppose you prefer the other one.

[Gross? Sylvain is gross.]

[acquaint]

You're welcome, [ he says, without missing a beat as felix grabs another rabbit nugget. and he will also go and take a slice because he manifested this, thanks. when else will he get to try rabbit pizza?? also can't believe felix is just going to pick the pieces of meat off the pizza. ] And the other one was good! Don't judge just because you have a longstanding grudge against vegetables.

[ though he could have done without the entire head in the middle. thanks, pizza gods. anyway, he hasn't tried the variety of soda yet, but he sees one with "fire" in its name so he's going to give that one a go. and since felix is here, he'll get to suffer with him. ]

Here, try this with me. If we die, [ haha ] we die together.

[brothered]

I don't have a grudge, [Felix grumbles, not unlike a man with a grudge, as he watches Sylvain turn to investigate what else sits upon this table. All that needs to be said about vegetables, in Felix's opinion, but—ah. Well.

Well.

It's not the first time Sylvain has joked about death, idiot that he is? It certainly won't be the last, but it hits different, in this moment; like, Felix immediately thinks of Sylvain stretched out on that chaise, eyelashes far too dark against cheeks that were far too pale, and it's—

—mmph. The rabbit suddenly turns to ash on his tongue; he has to force himself to swallow, eyes dropping to the bottle in Sylvain's hands as he wills that image to leave. It was fake? Or it turned out to be fake, in the end, and yet it felt so very real. Still does, hence the twist of his frown as he silently stares Sylvain down.]

...You're hardly funny. [His tone is quieter than it was a moment before? Terser, too—because it's guilt Felix feels, on some level, and thus it's guilt that sends him shifting his attention down to that stupid box of pizza. He'll busy himself with picking more rabbit chunks off this thing, thanks.] Drink it yourself.

[acquaint]

[ ah, too soon, perhaps. sylvain knows it wasn't real—he's still standing here, after all, hale and whole as if nothing happened. but the feelings still linger, despite how he tries not to think about it. he doesn't think he'd ever forget the sensation of his body slowly breaking down while he lounged on that chaise. and it isn't as if he's never thought about dying, especially in the last five years, but not like that. he'd rather get run through on the battlefield than go through that whole experience again. but this is what he does best: making light of it, pretending it doesn't bother him; shoving all of that down to think about later on his own. it wasn't felix's fault and neither was it his, and there's nothing any of them can do to change what already happened.

but he knows felix and he knows that it will stay with him despite sylvain's best efforts to convince him otherwise. that's just felix—he's always cared so much. ]

Too soon, I know. [ his smile softens a little and he leans down, just enough to try and meet felix's eyes. ] Hey, I'm still here. Okay? And I've never asked you for anything, so the least you could do is drink this with me for old time's sake.

[brothered]

[The dream, or whatever it was—that wasn't them? Not really, anyway, and yet, as Felix continues picking at this pizza—hmm. It's the thought of Sylvain dying before him while he did absolutely nothing that sticks with him, yes; that will stick with him for some time, but what's lodged even deeper in his mind is how that strange version of himself felt, in that moment, as he stood by Sylvain's side, pressing his fingers to Sylvain's cold, cold cheek: relieved. Grateful, even, that he'd been given just enough time to complete his painting.

Disgusting.

That, however, is for him to deal with; it would be, is, unfair to punish Sylvain for his own wrongdoings, even though Felix feels the very real urge to walk away as Sylvain leans closer. It's not Sylvain that Felix has a problem with? It's Sylvain's smile. The easy way he attempts to move past this, because—well. I've never asked you for anything, Sylvain said, and that's true—but as Felix plucks one last piece of rabbit from its cheesy prison before glancing at his friend, Felix thinks that maybe, just maybe, his friend should work on that. It's only fair.

But far be it from Felix to fail to take this out. They've other things to worry about? Dwelling on... that isn't helpful in the slightest, and so, after studying Sylvain for a moment longer, Felix offers the stilted olive branch that is:]

...I'm not drinking from that. [The bottle, he means. Come on, sir, show some class.] Find a glass.

library

[biggestbitch]

[Congrats to Sylvain for having the misfo(u)rtune of opening that pizza box the moment Four walks by. The combination of cheese and fish is absolutely foul to her, although it doesn't help that every single pizza she's seen thus far is just... so strange... She's never had pizza either, but she's firmly in the camp of "this strange and bizarrely gross food is better left unconsumed."

But right, the real problem here. She's already pinched her nose when she turns to Sylvain, her brow looking just as pinched.]

Please excuse me for interrupting you, but would you mind shutting the box? I'm afraid I find the smell rather... unpleasant. [She can't even imagine how anyone's eating any of this slop, but humans are so weird and dumb, there's not much anyone can do about.]