Solomon Wreath (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
peacefullywreathed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tushanshu_logs2015-04-13 02:41 pm
peacefullywreathed) wrote in tushanshu_logs2015-04-13 02:41 pm
Kneel in silence alone / my spirit bears me
Characters: Solomon Wreath, Raine Sage, OPEN
Date: Month of April, ‘2016’.
Location: Primarily the Midnight Hotel, but potentially elsewhere as well.
Situation: Solomon’s adjusting to new circumstances, like the fact he’s now blind and a part of his soul has detached to act as a filter for his highly addictive magic. Fun.
Warnings/Rating: References to addiction--specifically an addiction to magic--and subsequent withdrawal.
The first five days after the accident, Solomon didn’t leave his room. Not only was there no point, but he was virtually incapable of it; he’d gone into the attempt to filter his magic knowing that he’d come out of it either insane or in withdrawal, and that hadn’t changed just because it hadn’t quite worked. He spent that time alternately too sick to leave the bed and too restless to bear it. It wasn’t until several days into the month of April that he dared to leave, and that was mostly to escape the feeling of being caged.
From the 3rd of April onwards the Hotel patrons will start seeing a tall, dark-haired man about the place. Not exactly an ordinary sight, either—these days Solomon had silver scars scattered around his eyes and face, thin in themselves but in large enough quantity to be clearly visible. They looked exactly as if something had blown up in his face, because something had; if anyone managed to catch him with his sleeves rolled up, they’d see similar laceration scars on his hands and wrists.
The really odd thing about him was that the shadows flocked toward him. Anywhere within ten feet of him, shadows would detached from their owners and gather around his feet like eager puppies, or caressing his fingers whenever he touched the wall. Which was often; the way he moved, the way he walked, it was clear Solomon couldn’t see a thing. Every now and then the shadows would spread out around him, as if scouting the terrain ahead, but even then Solomon’s progress was slow.
The observant would notice that the shadows, having touched Solomon once, would develop an underscoring blue mist which acted, in many ways, like a shadow for the shadows.
Though Solomon had been at the Hotel for months, he was so reclusive that ten to one most of the patrons wouldn’t recognise him, and frankly that was something Solomon was relying on. This was going to be hard enough without people gawking. Luckily he wouldn’t be able to see people gawking—but he’d know it, if only out of paranoia.
For the most part he tried to avoid areas with high traffic, or at least during hours of high traffic; but even still Solomon was potentially visible in the halls, on the balcony over the reception, and in the kitchen or the common-room in particular, drawing shadows around and, occasionally, cursing over a stubbed toe or banged knee. He didn’t seem to be striving to do anything in particular, aside from exploring his surroundings and staunchly ignoring anyone nearby. In the kitchen he was particularly interested in the tea area and finding the blasted fridge.
Regardless of where he was, the kedan gave him a wide berth; the only risk to his public seclusion was, therefore, the Foreigners.
[ooc: As a necromancer, Solomon has a death-sense—he can sense whether or not a person has died before. Due to progress in-game he’s also able to extend that to a sense of a person’s soul, though at the time of this log he isn’t able to tell anything more than whether or not there are large pieces missing (so your character’s emotional secrets are safe!). Please let me know if your character fits into this category through PM or a short ooc note.]
Date: Month of April, ‘2016’.
Location: Primarily the Midnight Hotel, but potentially elsewhere as well.
Situation: Solomon’s adjusting to new circumstances, like the fact he’s now blind and a part of his soul has detached to act as a filter for his highly addictive magic. Fun.
Warnings/Rating: References to addiction--specifically an addiction to magic--and subsequent withdrawal.
The first five days after the accident, Solomon didn’t leave his room. Not only was there no point, but he was virtually incapable of it; he’d gone into the attempt to filter his magic knowing that he’d come out of it either insane or in withdrawal, and that hadn’t changed just because it hadn’t quite worked. He spent that time alternately too sick to leave the bed and too restless to bear it. It wasn’t until several days into the month of April that he dared to leave, and that was mostly to escape the feeling of being caged.
From the 3rd of April onwards the Hotel patrons will start seeing a tall, dark-haired man about the place. Not exactly an ordinary sight, either—these days Solomon had silver scars scattered around his eyes and face, thin in themselves but in large enough quantity to be clearly visible. They looked exactly as if something had blown up in his face, because something had; if anyone managed to catch him with his sleeves rolled up, they’d see similar laceration scars on his hands and wrists.
The really odd thing about him was that the shadows flocked toward him. Anywhere within ten feet of him, shadows would detached from their owners and gather around his feet like eager puppies, or caressing his fingers whenever he touched the wall. Which was often; the way he moved, the way he walked, it was clear Solomon couldn’t see a thing. Every now and then the shadows would spread out around him, as if scouting the terrain ahead, but even then Solomon’s progress was slow.
The observant would notice that the shadows, having touched Solomon once, would develop an underscoring blue mist which acted, in many ways, like a shadow for the shadows.
Though Solomon had been at the Hotel for months, he was so reclusive that ten to one most of the patrons wouldn’t recognise him, and frankly that was something Solomon was relying on. This was going to be hard enough without people gawking. Luckily he wouldn’t be able to see people gawking—but he’d know it, if only out of paranoia.
For the most part he tried to avoid areas with high traffic, or at least during hours of high traffic; but even still Solomon was potentially visible in the halls, on the balcony over the reception, and in the kitchen or the common-room in particular, drawing shadows around and, occasionally, cursing over a stubbed toe or banged knee. He didn’t seem to be striving to do anything in particular, aside from exploring his surroundings and staunchly ignoring anyone nearby. In the kitchen he was particularly interested in the tea area and finding the blasted fridge.
Regardless of where he was, the kedan gave him a wide berth; the only risk to his public seclusion was, therefore, the Foreigners.
[ooc: As a necromancer, Solomon has a death-sense—he can sense whether or not a person has died before. Due to progress in-game he’s also able to extend that to a sense of a person’s soul, though at the time of this log he isn’t able to tell anything more than whether or not there are large pieces missing (so your character’s emotional secrets are safe!). Please let me know if your character fits into this category through PM or a short ooc note.]
no subject
He wasn't much good at outright asking for help, either.
Solomon took a deep breath and managed to keep the blasted lump out of his throat. Now he felt wrung-out, and couldn't imagine where all the anger and frustration had gone. "Let's change the subject," he said. "I seem to recall you laughing like a loon the other day. What was that about?"
He hadn't had the wherewithal to ask, at the time.
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The subject change threw her for a moment, mostly in the realization that he'd heard her. Of course he'd heard her, in retrospect. She'd been right outside their door. Raine half-laughed now, and it was a bit sheepish. "A tie," she said, realized that this would make no sense, and backtracked. "Someone who I can only assume was Skulduggery left a rather nice tie on the doorknob that day, in reference to a previous discussion. It was unexpected enough that it sparked what you heard."
It had not been nearly as funny as her fit of laughter would imply, but it had been a long week.
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--Oh.
Solomon broke out into laughter. It was rather raw and faintly hysterical, as laughter usually was so soon after relief, but genuine. "How did he find out about that?"
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No. It was enough that he knew what she looked like when she blushed, that he had the opportunity to make her do so over and over again. At least he had that.
The smile came up again. "I'm not sure how I should feel about a gift I haven't touched, given to you by Skulduggery on the basis of ... shall we say, propensities. I think I should get to touch this 'gift'."
He was still too weak for anything truly energetic, and they both knew that. But he could still tease.
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She got up, crossed to the desk again-- she'd left the tie coiled in one of the drawers, out of the way until she knew exactly how to give it to him. Well, this solved that problem neatly. Raine settled beside him once more, pressed the length of sleek fabric into his hands. "Do you trust his judgment when it comes to matters of style?" she inquired.
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"It's blue." A moment as she studied the tie again, looking for the best comparison to draw, and ignored the way it made her heart ache a little for him. This was the way things would have to be, now. "...I'd say it was the color of an adulocia's scales, but I doubt that's a creature you've encountered. Hm. Perhaps an evening sky. On the darker side, but not unrelieved."
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Necromancers generally went for black for obvious reasons, but Solomon preferred dark colours regardless primarily because they made the stains more difficult to see. Not, of course, that he didn't try to avoid stains where possible. Besides, he looked good in darker colours.
"Wherever does he think I'm going to wear a satin tie, I wonder," he murmured, and his head moved slightly toward Raine, the corner of his mouth turned up in a considering and rather mischievous smile.
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"I was a little surprised he didn't pick black," she noted, amusement in her voice. She did know his color preferences. Most of the time she even agreed with them: Solomon did look good in dark colors.
Mischief in his smile, and it warmed her, even if she wasn't quite sure yet what he was getting at. Even if he wasn't quite focused directly on her. "Perhaps he simply thought a gift should be particularly nice," Raine suggested, tone light. "You would know better than I if Skulduggery meant something by it."
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His gaze, though off-centre, remained steady. So did the smirk. "I think you should reconsider what manner of discussion gave him the idea for it."
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She could practically feel herself coloring at the reminder of that discussion, couldn't quite decide whether to be glad or not that Solomon couldn't see it. Likely wasn't close enough to feel the heat of her skin, either. "I would be quite happy never to consider Skulduggery's opinions on our intimate pursuits again," she said, loftily. Let alone encouragement. "Further, I'll note that with adequate planning, improvised materials shouldn't be necessary."
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Certainly a tie couldn't be called improvised if it was intended, after all.
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Raine didn't quite reach for the tie itself, rather covered it and his hand with hers. Her touch was light, at first, barely there, as if she was still a little uncertain. If she was it wasn't evident in her voice, though, which she kept almost serious. Almost. "It is a nice tie, isn't it. I'm beginning to suspect you're teasing me, Solomon."
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That Raine believed he could adjust? It was enough.