WEEK 7

[bathymetric]

Another Saturday gone and just like that you wake on Sunday, down five of your number. The largest dent taken out of you at once so far - it's surely noticeable, the head count being cut by a third. Almost enough to make you wonder how many of you will even be left by the next motive or two. Surely this isn't a sustainable rate for body counts to increase... right?

There's a new and, it looks like, final wing of the building to explore, bringing everything full circle. Maybe you'll get some more answers to some of the questions and mysteries of this place there - or at least, you can certainly hope for them. Time to turn your investigative eyes towards one last batch of rooms, who knows what you might find?

Angel remains around at night, her appearances much more common now that... well, she's certainly seen a downtick in necessary surveillance work, hasn't she? The app giving you a line to The Professor remains open, and well... whatever's going on with that ouija in the library continues to happen! You're not suffering from a shortage of leads, at least, even as things get more bizarre.

Something's going to have to give here, eventually. Right?



SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY

[ ooc: Welcome to your last player case week! AC is over here, regains as always are over here, and... well, enjoy! After this we get to take our big turn towards the Serious. ]

Comments

[philoxenia]

[ The paints are already here, so she takes a seat next to him and ties her hair back. It's gotten a little longer, she realizes--but she quickly dashes that thought away. Instead, she focuses on him and what he's saying. It's easier that way.

She pulls a palette close, squeezing a small dollop of paint into each spot. ]

Orange or grey with stripes... ah, like a tabby cat. [ She considers the palette of each, and in the end... the green paint remains untouched as she starts to mix in a bit of white with the blue. It's a pretty close match to what he's scribbled down. ] Like this, do you think?

[bolderfell]

[Nod!]

Yeah, that's right. Their cloaks must be made of whatever they get their paws on, so that doesn't matter as much.

[philoxenia]

Hmm, that makes sense.

[ Let's see... something between purple and blue, she thinks. Gently, she takes the little statue into her left hand, and her right is steady as she starts to paint. ]

There's so much detail here... I hope I can do it justice.

[bolderfell]

[He chuckles a very little, folding his arms on the table as he watches.]

You know it's for you. Just paint it the way you like.

[philoxenia]

That's true... but you took so much effort to make it for me.

[ She glances at him with a tiny smile. ]

So... it's important to me.

[bolderfell]

[Oh. He adjusts his scarf and clears his throat.]

The wood they have here's pretty easy to work with. If you're not happy with how this comes out, I can just make another one.

[philoxenia]

[ She can tell he's embarrassed, but she won't call him out. ... She does smile a little more, though. ]

A whole collection of caits.... But, really, you don't have to go through the trouble.

[bolderfell]

[He settles back in his chair and crosses his arms.]

Not as long as you like this one, anyway. And don't act like you are if, in the end, you decide you're not. Not like you have to make the best of things with me. We both know I've caused you enough trouble.

[philoxenia]

Well, if you insist, I have no choice but to be brutally honest.

[ ... but, hm. She mulls that over for a little while, quiet as she paints. ]

... Maybe, but I'd say you've more than made up for it.

[bolderfell]

...Did I?

[Like. When?]

[philoxenia]

[ She's quiet for a few moments. Then she looks at him, a little hesitant, a little unsure. ]

Standing guard outside the arcade. Not talking about what you knew when Anna brought up my being covered in blood at the beginning. Carving these for me. ... Listening to me. And opening up about your envelope last week.

[bolderfell]

...

[He blinks at her through all that, drops his gaze at the last. Picks at a thread coming loose from his cloak.

Finally, very quietly, he says:]

You trusted me first.

[philoxenia]

Mm. I did.

[ She doesn't even hesitate. ]

And so far, that trust hasn't been misplaced.

[bolderfell]

[It doesn't hit him like a sucker-punch anymore, like it did with Della, but he still has to take a breath. He pulls one foot onto the seat of his chair and wraps his arms around his leg, resting his head on his knee. He breathes out.]

...Ema said the same damn thing.

[philoxenia]

[ Her throat tightens, and she has to put down her paintbrush. Her hand isn't so steady anymore; she doesn't want to make a mistake. ]

... Do you think it is? Misplaced.

[bolderfell]

Would've told the both of you yes, two weeks ago.

[Two weeks. It hasn't even been two weeks since they lost her.]

Now I don't know. You're not the only ones who... seem to have faith in me. Makes me wonder if there's something I'm missing.

[philoxenia]

[ Two weeks... it feels so much longer.

She understands, though. Understands how he feels--because she feels it, too. It's difficult to put her feelings into words, but after a few moments, she thinks she knows what to say. ]

... We have trouble seeing the good parts of ourselves, most of the time. Sometimes it takes someone else to see the best parts of ourselves, and for them to tell us. [ There we go. That's a start. ] ... It's hard to see yourself clearly, when you've been hurt in certain ways.

[bolderfell]

[He glances at her, taking a moment to absorb what she says, and then reaches for the cait and the paintbrush. Carefully, he continues where she left off; he might not be a painter, but he can follow from where she began.]

...What do you have trouble seeing?

[philoxenia]

... You weren't the first person to say I'm strong.

[ Her gaze shifts downward slightly, to watch his hands as he works. ]

Della's said it. Ema said it, too, in the letter she left me. But I don't know-- I'm just trying to survive. I don't know when I started being so afraid of it, but-- I don't want to die here.

[bolderfell]

Hey. Working hard to stay alive is a good thing. It's not easy. Especially not in a place like this.

[This is Real Talk Hour with Therion "I'll Survive This If It Fuckin' Kills Me" Nolastname.]

You don't see it? How you've changed since you got here?

[philoxenia]

[ Well. He's not wrong about that. But... ]

I... suppose I'm more willing to reach out to people. .... To not lock myself away when things get too difficult.

[bolderfell]

[He nods and focuses on getting paint in only the right part of a tight, fiddly corner.]

That's part of it. But when I met you, you were this... timid thing wandering the halls at night. Like a ghost. You never did anything to protect yourself, you never wanted to disagree with anyone, even if they were being disagreeable...

[He knows he's Exhibit A, here.]

You've come a long way from that. Not that you're turning into Jasper or anything, but... even if you're quiet, you stand up for yourself. For what you believe in. Even when it's hard to say or do, you just brace yourself and do it, because doing it's important to you now. It's... not something I expected from you, to be honest.

It's the kind of thing that... makes others want to do better, too. To help you. It's something worth fighting for.

[philoxenia]

[ ... Oh.

She stares at him for a moment or two, then quickly looks away. Her throat feels tight again, and she clears it gently. Maybe a few weeks ago she'd ask if he really meant that, but... Here, now, she knows he means what he says. ]

... When you put it like that, it's hard to argue. [ A pause, and she looks back at him. ] And it's hard to not see it. Weeks ago, I wouldn't have even thought about asking for help--for anything, not to defend myself. [ She knows it's so much more than that. More than just the physical part of it. ] Not for anything. ... And I guess it's only fair, because there are more than a couple of people I want to fight for and help here, too.

[ And that surprises her, too, to admit it so easily and freely. She doesn't look away from him as she says it, either. ]

... Thank you for saying those things. It means more than I can put into words.

[bolderfell]

[Therion blinks at her, green eyes wide and unable to look away from that expression--that quiet, unhesitating determination. To look at him when she says something like that... he's older than her, but in this moment, he doesn't feel it. He nods. He swallows. It's more than he can put into words, too.]

...I know how hard it is. To find a way to trust when it's hurt you like that. So I know how strong you have to be to do it.

[He could tell Anna that Mira was stronger than her because she's stronger than him, too. Instead of resenting or envying her that--is she the kind of person anyone can resent?--he feels, perversely, an urge to protect her. To protect that strength. To find the strength himself to do so. After a moment, he returns the cait figure and paintbrush to her hands.]

There. Now if there's something wrong with the paint job, you can blame me and I'll have to make you another. Fair enough, right?

[philoxenia]

[ Did she surprise him? ... Signs point to yes, but that's okay. She finally looks away, down, after he hands her the little wooden statue, and the paintbrush. She'd like to tell him that he's changed, too, since she met him, but it seems like the moment's passed.

... Maybe she'll get a chance, some time. She hopes it won't be in paper and ink.

Instead, though, she lifts her gaze and gives a soft, almost amused sound. ]

Well, if you've offered... In all seriousness, I think you did just fine. [ She starts to paint again. The easy, back-and-forth motion is calming. Centers her, but she feels steadier than she did before he came in. And there's a quiet, slightly teasing note in her voice when she says, ] Not bad at all, for a novice.