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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i.

[harryhark]

[ a common sight: harrowhark nonagesimus, first of her name, the midnight hagette, the lugubrious lady, yadda yadda yadda), with her pointed little nose shoved nearly into the spine of a open book. she reads quickly, eyes darting to-and-fro across the page, thumb tucked under the next page to flick it over when ready. she may as well have existed in a space separate from the rest of reality, so intense is her focus. somehow, even her unimpressive stature and slight build only adds to the aura that she radiates - a woman who reads so intensely that only the word violent encapsulates the scene.

a less common sight: harrowhark nonagesimus, first of her name, tripping over some poor sod who'd decided to take a nap in her path. she does not stumble with grace. so deep had her concentration been on the words she'd been devouring that she does not have the presence of mind to do anything more than yelp inelegantly and keel over in a flail of spindly limbs. had anyone been watching her read and found themselves inexplicably intimidated by the sight, they might have chuckled at the disparity: now, fumbling off the ground with a glare, she looks more like an ungainly chicken knocked off its perch.

her glare, at least, has the power to level cities.

she flickers to her feet, birdlike in how she moves - not elegant, exactly, but practiced enough. the book has landed a few strides away, facedown, pages soaking the dew from the grass. but she is too busy glaring to retrieve it. ]

You have heard of the concept of a bed, I presume?

[ if you were expecting an apology for the sharp little boot-toe that dug into your ribs when she tripped, cute furry stranger, you can be sure that it won't be coming from harrow. ]

[savanaclaw]

[A small mercy for the small little lady with the sharp little boot-toes: Leona Kingscholar does not wake easily or readily. Yes, her trip over him caused him to stir. Yes, he's more annoyed than sleep-soft when he finally pushes himself up to sit amongst the flowers. But that is a finally, because first he has to grumble, roll over, attempt to reclaim sleep, but...

Well, the ache in his ribs, the rustling of the grass, the sharp words meeting his ears all ensure that no, this mistake cannot go unremarked on.

So she's already had a chance to right herself by the time he sits up, stretches all languid and catlike, and fixes her with a half-glare, ears lowered and tail flicking behind him doing even more to show his annoyance at the interruption.]

Do you see a bed around here anywhere?

[He'd love a bed, honestly. Sleeping in the grass in a warm sunbeam was nice, sure, but sleeping in a bed in a warm sunbeam was even better.]

[harryhark]

[ he has ears. and a tail.

--it's not like harrow hasn't seen all matter of strange and unexpected sights in her travels, but, well. none quite so furry.

she's read about mammals, of course. how other worlds teem with life, unlike the cold black desolation of the ninth. she's seen pictures in books, holo-videos, and so on and so forth. ortus had a stuffed lion that he slept with every night, and harrow had both quietly and not-so-quietly judged him for it. it shouldn't be a novelty, to see something as mundane as a pair of ears and a tail upon a man - not when she herself has shaped miracles from bone and ash.

nonetheless, her gaze lingers on the ears. though she feels a fool even as the thought passes through her mind, she cannot help the sincerity of it - i wonder if they're as soft as they look.

not that she lets her curiosity show on her face. not that her expression twitches from its baseline neutrality. wherein neutrality is defined as the expression most people wear when they squish a roach under their show and have to clean the stain off the bottom. ]

Returning to your bed usually precedes sleeping.

[ this is an inane conversation to be having in the first place. there's clearly no benefit in continuing it. except that harrow's still not sure what she's gotten herself into, she's forgotten about her now dew-stained book in the midst of all of the hullaballoo, and - it's not terrible, to be speaking with someone who doesn't immediately want to murder her. none of these things have the slightest connection to her thoughts about soft ears. ]

Unless you make a habit of throwing yourself to the ground whenever you feel the need for sleep.

[ at least she's managing a fairly neutral tone. ]

[savanaclaw]

[He has ears and a tail, and she has the sort of neutral-bordering-cross expression usually reserved for when his professors are lecturing him about missing this or that class yet again because he'd been... napping... in a sunbeam... and they'd caught him...

So maybe that's why this particular interaction doesn't feel especially strange. At least she's not droning on about wasted potential, and he'd bet that if he rolled back over right now she'd go back to her forgotten book and leave him in peace.

Or so one could hope.

...Right?

Oddly enough, having company that isn't his Beloved Husband (Hm. That still feels right-not-right...), even company that's somewhat... grumpy, almost, is kind of nice. Not nice enough that he'll stand up for her, no, but he also wouldn't mind terribly if she decided to settle on the grass with him.

Or even pet his ears, which he's noticed have caught her attention, not that he particularly cares enough to call her out on that. It's pretty normal for humans to have that - or similar, or worse - reactions when seeing a beastman for the first time. They do flick or wiggle every so often, though, when the breeze catches his fur just right.]

So what if I do?

[Look, he doesn't throw himself to the ground, but, like... if it's a relatively clear patch, and if there's a sunbeam, or if it's nice and shady on a warm day... then why not?]