tushanshu_logs | [Midnight Hotel] May catch-all

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[Midnight Hotel] May catch-all

Characters: Anyone, everyone.
Date: Month of May, ‘2016’.
Location: The Midnight Hotel.
Situation: Catch-all post! Feel free to use this post for anything that happens within the Midnight Hotel during the month, using the subject header to label specific rooms or for specific people. See also the OOC note at the bottom.
Warnings/Rating: None thus far.

After the bustle of the last two weeks the Hotel seems oddly empty for a little while, with everything packed up and stored away. That feeling will be exacerbated by some of the Foreigner residents moving out over the course of the month, either to their own housing in Sky Sector or their own apartments elsewhere, and for the first time in quite a while the Hotel may have a few empty rooms.

It will, however, be full of flowers for a good part of May. Though originally provided by Xion in the public areas, Anton seems to be making sure every part of the Hotel, from public to private, has a bit of colour around unless specifically asked otherwise, such as for health reasons.

People may notice a bit of a glitch in the Hotel’s main doors. While ordinarily the exit sector can be chosen using sigils by the door, this month the pearl-white haze around its edges will putter every time someone changes it. Every now and then the glitch might cause someone to emerge in Sky Sector instead of their intended target—though the exit building will be different every time, as if the Hotel hasn’t quite decided yet where to settle its doors. Since it isn’t harmful Anton won’t bar people from using the switches, though he will recommend avoiding doing so; all this means is that the exit defaults into Central.

As a result, late at night when the doors aren’t being heavily used, Anton can be seen reviewing the wards around the entrance and trying to pin down exactly how the Hotel is, apparently, growing a new exit.

This month Anton will also be uncharacteristically emotional—though all this really means is that he alternates between being definably melancholic (prone to staring wistfully at sketches or a specific page in a dictionary) or unusually, and exasperatedly, entertained. The latter can be visibly attributed to the tablet newly propped up on the reception desk, displaying a picture of Anton, Skulduggery and that annoying bloke that was around last fortnight with his arms around their necks, pulling them down to his height. The tablet regularly announces times and tasks put into the tablet’s calendar for Anton’s convenience … and some of which aren’t to his convenience at all.

“Bing bing bing! This is your regular inspirational reminder of a delightfully important word: poop.”

“Boopity boop! Hey Anton, it’s two o’clock! You know what that means? That means it’s time to go be social. I know, it’s tough, be strong! You can do it!”

“Diddly do! Seven o’clock! Time to get laid!”

Though Anton will turn down these particular voiceovers so they at least don’t permeate the whole lobby, he still won't turn them off completely.

[ooc: The Midnight Hotel’s status page is available here, with the rules at the top and ongoing status at the bottom. PLEASE POST TO THE STATUS PAGE IF YOUR CHARACTER WOULD LIKE A ROOM, JOB OR AREA IN THE GARAGE OR ARE MOVING OUT. Anton will manufacture means of payment until Foreigners are able to properly offer recompense or choose to move out.

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"I didn't know what to make of him, at first," Raine said, thoughtful. It was something like agreement. She was, however, definitely of the opinion it was a shame he had disappeared so soon; not only was he a good person in his own right, but there was something to be said for the effect he had on Anton, as well.

The question wasn't quite something she'd expected, given that the last serious discussion on the topic with Anton had involved being warned about the tendencies of necromancers. Raine tipped her head a little to the side, took a few seconds to generate an honest if inspecific answer. "Better. As well as can be expected, I suppose. How have you been?"

"Few people do," Anton said simply. Most didn't bother to wait out the enthusiasm and the invasiveness to find out what was there. For a man who needed to feel wanted, Larrikin was very good at driving people away--not without cause, perhaps.

The question made Anton turned back to the bookshelves. "As normal." Something of a lie, though not completely. Anton had never stopped missing Larrikin, but until now the grief had hidden itself over the years. "Is there something with which I can help you?"

Edited (wording) 2015-05-06 08:20 (UTC)

The fact Anton turned around meant he'd miss her eyes narrowing slightly. That was an evasion, and coupled with his body language, Raine suddenly doubted very much that 'as normal' was accurate. She rested her elbows on the desk, leaned forward a bit, watching Anton a little more sharply now.

"I'd prefer a slightly more honest answer," she said, bluntly, "but I recognize that without Ryder as impetus, I've been lax in keeping up my end of our friendship. My apologies. Anton, when was the last time you let a doctor look at you without grievous injury involved? For that matter, when was the last time you took an actual break?"

The sternness, coupled with apology, leading to a question after his health made Anton turn in subtle surprise and lift an eyebrow at Raine. "Very well," he said. "As normal taking into account the arousal of some unhelpful emotions regarding my best friend's death; never; during the winter two months ago, when we lit the bonfires."

If Raine ever told anyone he had called Rover Larrikin his best friend out loud he would deny it, but saying so still made him feel a little better. It wasn't that he'd ever denied the emotions to himself, but it relieved some of the unnoticed pressure in his chest nevertheless.

"Unhelpful," Raine repeated, turning that over. An interesting way to describe loss and the associated emotions. Practical, she supposed, which was of a piece with Anton. "I see."

Anton had never spoken of Larrikin, before this. It wasn't exactly a surprise, to learn he was dead. It was, however, a sadness, and Raine could only imagine the gravity of losing such a friend twice over.

She didn't quite soften, but she was a little quieter, when she spoke again. "Why never?" Raine wanted to know. The matter of breaks could be handled later; that was better than she'd been expecting, and she was aware she wasn't the best person to talk.

Given that Raine was a healer, the question she chose to pursue was far more welcome than the alternatives. Few of the Dead Men had been the sort to talk about their emotions, except perhaps at Hopeless's nudging and only with Hopeless himself; but Anton was one of those who did it least.

"There was never any need, or too much expense," Anton answered. "When I was a youth medicine wasn't very advanced, and nearly as bad to buy as any illness that might have taken me. Even after I knew some magical healers, there was never any point. I needed the money elsewhere, and rarely become ill or injured besides."

The latter was primarily because of some combination of the gist and conditioning, but the former ... Anton assumed that was because of the gist too. He couldn't remember the last time he became ill. "May I ask why the sudden interest in my health?"

Edited (adding stuff) 2015-05-06 09:37 (UTC)

Anton's rationale made sense for the past, at least, though perhaps not the present and the future. Raine hummed in thought for just a moment, looking for an accurate answer which did not go into any kind of detail whatsoever about her conversation with Larrikin. "Rover was talkative," she said at length. "And, perhaps, worried. Money is unlikely to be an issue at this point."

"He usually is," said Anton, regarding her with a furrow in his brow. "Talkative, that is; though less so, worried, and you have seen in what manner his concern registers." He nodded at the tablet and then paused to regard it. There was something in particular which Anton had experienced throughout his lifetime, not quite an illness but certainly a condition, and which Larrikin had always been intent on 'fixing'. "... Ah. Would this, perhaps, be related to certain intimate capabilities?"

"It's possible a poor choice of phrasing regarding Ryder temporarily convinced him that I'd borne your child," Raine said with a resigned sigh. "Perhaps obviously, I've had reason lately to do more research into the nervous system, and the results of damage to it. My resources are somewhat limited, but--" A pause, thinking again. "I've caught your hands shaking, before. I initially attributed it to exhaustion, but it's not impossible there's something else underlying."

"That must have gone well." By 'well', Anton assumed 'explosively'. Larrikin did love children. He wasn't always appropriate and wasn't always aware of how he came across to children who didn't need as much affection as he did, but he loved them. The idea of Anton having one must have sent him haywire.

The second part made Anton pause. "I hadn't realised you were watching me so closely." The observation wasn't inaccurate, but Anton had grown used to either people not feeling the need to say so, like the Dead Men, or no one simply noticing. "Yes, the gist has that effect when I'm particularly active or emotional. It always has."

The idea that there might be something else responsible ... well, the thought had never occurred to Anton before. The gist was what had made him Shudder.

"I don't think I've ever been literally swept off my feet before." Rueful, but Raine was smiling a little nevertheless.

It faded a little in the consideration of the other matter. "Habit," Raine said. "Too many of my friends hide what's wrong, especially when they believe nothing can be done. The intent is not to worry those they care about; the results tend to catastrophic. If Colette hadn't..." She shook her head. Not strictly relevant. "Never mind. Either symptom by itself might be set aside, but taken together I'd be inclined to at least consider the possibility of a cause besides your magic. How many other gist-users have you known?"

That was the first time Anton had ever heard his situation called a 'symptom' before, and it made him frown--but thoughtfully, more than anything else. For such a long time the only way to move forward had been to only accept what was as it was. He'd never stopped, so he'd never reconsidered the truth of some of what he knew.

"One," he said. "But I thought she was a werewolf, haunting the woods near my village of birth. A group of us went out to find it and kill it, and I was one of them. When I found her she told me to kill her, because the gist was taking over." He spread his hands. "She lost her battle against it. We fulfilled her wish. I didn't find out that the gist was the name of the magic until later."

That had been a few months before he'd been taken his gist himself. Sometimes, when he was younger, he'd wondered what form his magic might have taken in those moments of extreme need if he hadn't had that example before him.

"So you've never had an opportunity to establish what is and isn't 'normal,' for your magic." Raine's expression near mirrored his, a thinking frown, brows drawn down and fingers tapping absently. "Unless you sought out written records? It's difficult to say for sure, either way. How old were you, when your magic took that form?"

The gist was obviously a taxing thing. It could be just that. Possibly. But without data for comparison, Raine was inclined to err on the side of caution. Obviously Anton had survived this long, of course, and she wasn't especially concerned that he might keel over without warning in the near future, but if there was something underlying with the potential to worsen, it was better to know.

"There aren't many," Anton admitted. "The most I discovered about the gist was from Mevolent, when he tried to recruit me before the war began. I was nineteen when I took the gist and don't recall any use of magic before then, which means either I didn't or it was too subtle to be seen. I don't believe any recorded gist-user, myself aside, has lived to be much over three-hundred."

He wasn't sure whether or not that would be relevant, or whether Raine already knew it, but given a gist-user's usual lifespan and the fact he'd surpassed it, the unsteadiness in his hands could simply be a matter of age.

Helpful in terms of context, profoundly unhelpful in all other manners. It meant nothing could be ruled out either way yet. Tap, tap-tap, till Raine noticed she was doing it and stopped herself. The little frown hadn't quite gone away, though: she had the thread of a puzzle and wanted to follow it as far as she could.

"That's relatively young," she noted. "Young enough, I'd judge, that it's entirely possible if there is a different cause than simply the gist, it might not have manifested. Some conditions take a while, or wait for the right environmental factors to manifest..." She spread her hands apart. "I don't know. But the possibility is worth considering."

"Not young for back then," Anton said. Now that he was thinking about it, which he hadn't in ... oh, centuries ... there were some details that might help Raine figure out the cause. "I was practically middle-aged at nineteen--the right environmental factors, yes?"

When had his hands last shaken? Strong emotion, yes, stress, yes, but usually only after he had stopped to rest. He had always attributed that to the gist or fading adrenaline. It did happen more frequently than it had during the war, but that was almost certainly a matter of age. Anything before nineteen was a long, long time ago, but in drawing on hazy memory Anton did seem to recall one or two instances even back then.

"There were a few times early on," he said slowly. "I might have been--perhaps seventeen? Both my parents had died before then and so I already worked complete hours, but I seem to recall a period of malaise which might have included some unsteadiness in my hands and in my balance."

He remembered it primarily because he remembered Betha begging him not to die, that she couldn't support the family alone; it had been so soon after her husband had died himself. But he did remember the unaccountable fatigue, the restfulness that wasn't, shaking in his hands, dizziness ...

Anton shook his head. "But that was a long time ago. Surely there would have been more symptoms if it was anything truly terrible."

"That's likely, yes," Raine agreed. "The fact you've made it this far says that much. If something of this nature was going to kill or cripple you, it likely would have already, long before we met." Not an idea she liked, but he was here and had survived. That was the salient part. "Especially if you haven't noticed much worsening over the years. I personally prefer to know, rather than wonder, but it's also possible that knowing for sure will, practically, change little."

Anton had, evidently, been taking care of himself for several hundred years. As well as several others. "Pursuing that, therefore, should be your choice," Raine said, a little regretfully. She wanted to know; she wanted to see if she could help, even though the chronic nature she suspected would mean she herself could do little. She raised one finger. "However. It's also worth acknowledging that, right now, there are a lot of people depending on you. Intentionally or not, you've become a central figure for Foreigners. You're a pillar of the community, so to speak, trusted and relied upon by the majority, from everything I've observed. Therefore, there's a question you posed me once that I'd like to return: who is looking out for your well-being?"

"Apparently, you," said Anton with a small smile. He could have turned it back on her; Raine, after all, as a healer and because of her nature, was equally central in Keeliai. But Raine did have her brother and had, however much Anton didn't quite understand it, Wreath; they were people who would ensure she didn't overwork herself.

Larrikin and the Dead Men had been that, for Anton. With Skulduggery too much alike Anton in the need for activity, there wasn't much chance for anyone to watch Anton's wellbeing.

"If you would like to pursue this," Anton said, "you have my permission; though I can't imagine it would change much to know what it is. Still, I am not a young man and if something should worsen for whatever reason, it seems prudent to know what might be the cause of it beforehand."

She returned the smile. Hadn't she said something very similar to him back then, too? An appropriate mirroring, she supposed. It did seem that Skulduggery might forget the concerns of the flesh, and Raine wouldn't be surprised if many of the rest of the Foreigners fell into assuming that Anton was a solid rock, unquestionable. Which he was, in many respects, but even stone was worn down with time.

"I would," Raine said with a nod, decisive. "Thank you. I'll do what more research I can, and I'll want to borrow you for an afternoon sometime in the next week or two, if that's acceptable."

Edited (a word) 2015-05-08 08:07 (UTC)

"Certainly," said Anton. Although Anton hadn't seen a healer in a very long time, he did realise this hadn't exactly been a check-up; whatever magical methods Raine usually used to ascertain proper health, she hadn't brought them up at all on this occasion. "Let me know when you're prepared, and what you find. Thank you for your concern."

Though the last words were, perhaps, a typical backhanded dismissal coming from most people, from Anton they were even and sincere.

All things considered, Raine had expected a little bit more resistance than she'd actually gotten. "All right," she said. She knew how to pick her battles; she'd see about convincing him to take actual breaks a little more often later. Besides, if he was grieving all over again, working, never sitting still, likely helped. "I will. In the mean time, please take care. There are some Foreigners you trust enough to delegate some things to, aren't there?" It was worth a try.

"I have some staff on hand, yes," said Anton, back to being rather amused. "Mister Hamada the elder is on the desk, and I have Master Aqua and Mister Lowell on staff also. In a pinch, I will threaten the Bentley to oblige Skulduggery to help."

"Is that the secret to getting him to comply?" Raine inquired, with interest. There was humor in it, though; she didn't honestly think she'd need to resort to coercion if she truly needed something from Skulduggery. "Regardless, I'm glad you have backup."

"One of them," Anton said blithely, which was the nearest he ever got to false innocence. He couldn't deny the help, though, and admitted, "The Hotel isn't accustomed to the degree of patronage I receive here. Having staff is unusual, but ... helpful. Let me know when you require my presence; I'll arrange a time with one of the others."

Goodness. Anton might actually be joking.

"I'll do that," Raine said with a nod. She fell quiet, looked for a moment like there was something more she was going to say, then shook her head. "All right. Until then."

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[Midnight Hotel] May catch-all

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