[ it's late at night and khun is outside, hair tied up away from his face, a blue cube resting on one of the benches beside him. there's a broom floating besides him, but he looks like he's not exactly eager to ride it. ]
There's not even an inside or a light source...really, the technology here...
[ the first problem might be that he's referring to a broom as technology but he is doing his best. ]
I don't like assuming. You're a very laid back individual, so "aggressive" would not be something I'd pin you for if I didn't know what, exactly, you were.
[He'll shrug his coat off at one of the tables.]
Let me know if you can't read any of the texts you find. I know quite a few of these languages.
[Malice nods at that and starts flipping through the books, looking for anything particularly interesting. As luck would have it... so many of these books are in languages he doesn't understand. His own is essentially English, but that's all he knows how to speak, read, and write, so...]
There are a lotta other languages, huh? [Or are these all the same one??] I'm gonna have'ta start a collection for you at this point.
That's perfectly fine. I haven't noticed much for the Northern spirits, either. As we get stronger, though, I'm sure we can test the differences more thoroughly.
I'll keep you informed of what I know of the North in exchange, of course, so long as you can keep your ear to Central. Does that sound reasonable?
I'm not sure it's working with just sugar. [Which is, by default, not exactly a complex flavor.] You should try actually cooking something with the sugar first.
And I didn't come here for a kitchen lecture, and yet here we are.
[:)]
Of course I meant to fix it. I'm not an animal. [God, this kid do be assuming stuff left and right.] Will you let me touch it this time without slapping my wrist, or should I go on the offensive and fight you for the honor?
[ Shinjiro thinks anybody would react that way walking in to a small housefire, but you do you, Solomon.
Also, don't think he hasn't noticed he's very much ignoring the callout. ]
And you coulda fooled me, if you could breathe through all that smoke. [ Hmph. He's giving Solomon a wary side-eye, but he finally steps back from the pan. For Now ] Fine. If you're gonna do it, then do it; not interested in any magic fights.
[ Physical, however...do you know how to brawl, old man. ]
[Once Comet is an acceptable distance away, Solomon slips his hand into his coat, producing a sleek black wand that he holds out in front of him with firm confidence.]
Manu Propria.
[The air ripples immediately with a sparking of light from the end of his wand. The seal remains dormant, but the sorcerer continues.]
"Hear me, denizens of darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it. Hear me and do as I command."
[...
Though it sounds like the incantation is meant to keep going, the continued lack of response from the seal has Solomon lowering his focus with a firm exhale through the nose, letting the pulse of magic die down around him. His free hand runs back through his hair.]
Well. That answers that for now, I suppose. What a shame.
[ They were sitting so still throughout the whole ritual, like maybe hoping it'll work will help ensure its success somehow.
Alas. It seemed like something was happening! ]
Were you trying to call upon a demon?
[ Um, for something like that as the first thing to practice in a new place... at least Comet asks sincerely like it's not a little crazy. Even if it might be.
It's like sorcerer's are normally like that. Or more enthusiastic practitioners of magic. Hehe. ]
Unfortunately, I don't think either of us could manage a spell to keep us awake for that length of time. I'd worry too much about our mental state of being.
[Cup found, let him quickly taste... oh, this is actually better than he expected! Terrific.]
I suppose that is a lot of assumption on my part, though. What would you call yourself, Ithaqua?
An abominable snowman, if you will. [Well, that's more of what the townspeople call him-- even the name he's called by comes from them. The title of "beast" comes from him and him alone.]
Incredible... that's definitely not something we've reached back at my home, that's for sure. Is it natural, or are there other factors at work letting them live that long?
Ah, sorry. You can call me Solomon. The pleasure's all mine.
[Another tap of his wand to the pan, and the mixture inside it immediately shatters into a million tiny pieces, imploding in on itself.]
[ So! A lot of things have been going on, unexpectedly.
Jing Yuan is taking it upon himself to do something like a check-in with certain people even following all of that at certain points on the same day. But, he will also bring something with him...
His chessboard, that is, just in case Solomon is feeling up to a distraction. Anyway, once he reaches the other man's room, he gives the door a knock. ]
[There's no response at first. But the door eventually creaks open, Solomon having traded his normal gold-trimmed coat for something far plainer in a faded white, looking genuinely surprised that he has company.
A beat, and he shakes the momentary pause away, his smile apologetic.]
Ah, Jing Yuan. Of course, of course. Give me just a minute to put some of my notes away.
[It's a cozy put oddly sparse space of a room, walls of stone and floors of old wood, a simple single bed and a small fireplace against one wall. The desk near the center of the room is stacked with books upon books, pages and bottles and quills and drawings scattered to and fro. Bookcases line one of the walls, though they seem rather bare, now housing only the odd trinket or rolls of parchment tied off with string. A small cauldron sits close to the fireplace, though it looks like it's been relatively untouched for a while. Near the window is a wooden cubby with red cushions to lounge, and several golden clocks dot the space at the mantle, on the desks, at the windows... and alongside the window sits not only a celestial globe, but a telescope as well.
In the corner opposite his desk now sits the baby grand piano.
Solomon nonchalantly moves to tap a quill clean of ink against a well-used rag, rolling up the parchment he'd been working on.]
I don't ever get house calls. Did you need me somewhere?
[ That Bruno's stalker spell on Solomon has even lasted this long without being noticed will forever be a surprise. He had expected it to either not work or be detected immediately, but somehow, somehow! It's gotten this far and, finally, that "he's being shady again" warning has pinged.
There was a lot of debate (with himself and also Rodrigo, who cutely listened while nibbling on a cracker) about what to do. Bruno is not a naturally confrontational person. The thought scares him, expecting the worst to come of it, but breaking into Solomon's room seemed no better. At least if he was direct...
If he was direct, he would at least not be acting shady like Solomon obviously is. Besides, he's already punched the guy once. He can do it again! If he has to! So! Confrontational it is! ]
...right, this is fine, this'll be fine. [ That said, he's still trying to build up courage, muttering to himself as he stops outside the door. ] Someone has to do this... it's important... you'll be okay, Bruno, c'mon... he probably won't curse you... or turn you into something... or... or anything else... terrible...
[ Aaaand here he goes, raising a hand to knock on Solomon's door. ]
[(18) means Solomon heard that voice, even if he doesn't catch every word or who it is. But he's still all smiles when he opens the door, a half-open book in one hand.]
[ The apology is belated, he knows. But he’s here before Solomon’s door, visibly flushed from the tail end of a cold.
In his arms, he has one of his nicest bouquets. It’s… not enough at all, after he’d seen that look in Solomon’s eyes that said he was - disappointed, maybe - in Ginger. But. Ginger has long resigned himself to never being enough. He only is - what he is.
As with everything, he hesitates - debates in circles with himself (what is the point in trying still, but - he wants to. He doesn’t… dislike Solomon.) - before he finally knocks.
[ At some point before the North wizards get called away, there's a small gift bag hanging on Solomon's doorknob. In it is a small glass bottle filled with dandelion wishes and petals - from lilies, from roses, from all the new and familiar flowers Ginger has encountered while he gardens. The bottle feels warm to hold - and warmer still the longer it's held. At its peak, it will burn the frost away from the inside out for whoever holds it. The duration doesn't last too long, perhaps an hour at best if used all at once, but it's... a wish... from someone who doesn't know what to make of Solomon, but there's a sort of care there. Uncertain and upset, but there.
The bag waits patiently for the room's owner to find it before they leave - or when they return. ]
[The bag will stay where it is. And even when the North is called away, Ginger will find that the bag still hangs from the handle of 3-5, completely undisturbed.
There is still not a trace of Solomon in the manor right now, it seems.]
[Guess who's trying to break into Solomon's room for no reason in particular? Akira's carefully stationed outside of his window with a series of tools in hand, working it open little by little... but there's magic on this door, isn't there? Good thing I rolled a (16) for once, so whatever trap Solomon's laid will hopefully not blow up in his face once he's popped his window open.
[He can, in fact, detect the hex on the window, and is able to temporarily disable it! Congratulations, Akira, u are a twu wizard.
It's a cozy but oddly sparse space of a room, walls of stone and floors of old wood, a simple single bed and a small fireplace against one wall flanked by two plush red chairs with gnarled golden metal framing twisting the arms and legs into something rather antique and posh as well as comfortable. The desk near the center of the room is stacked with books upon books, pages and bottles and quills and drawings scattered to and fro. Bookcases line one of the walls, though they seem rather bare, now housing only the odd trinket or rolls of parchment tied off with string. Two oddly shaped snowmen sit on one of the shelves. A small cauldron sits close to the fireplace, though it looks like it's been relatively untouched for a while. Near the window is a wooden cubby with red cushions to lounge, and several golden clocks dot the space at the mantle, on the desks, at the windows... and alongside the window sits not only a celestial globe, but a telescope as well. In the corner opposite his desk sits a baby grand piano.]
[Solomon's weight does a good job of masking the way his arms are shaking on the walk up to his room. As he mentioned to Bruno, the lock on Solomon's door has been unlocked, and to keep it from being invaded by people with worse intentions than Akira himself, he's put a magical seal over it.
Jing Yuan has joined them for the trip, so when Akira needs his arms freed up to undo the seal, that's who he hands Solomon to. Bruno, bless his heart, doesn't look like he'd have a good time carrying this man even ten feet to his bed.
The seal sizzles and cracks, dissipating into the open air. Throwing the door open wide, he lets Jing Yuan and Bruno enter first and closes the door behind himself.]
...Bruno. Do you need help healing? I can help, so don't exhaust yourself on him.
[It's quite possible he'll need more than one set of hands to be brought back from the brink.]
That's the thing, I don't think there is anything much to heal? I mean, his injuries aren't too bad. Ahito must have used one of the matches on him...
[ Bruno is fine with letting Jing Yuan take over carrying Solomon, so the most he'll do once he's in the room is wave him over to the bed. That's the obvious place to set Solomon down. ]
[ Jing Yuan ensures to linger because he thought it might be prudent to do so; is it any surprise that he was concerned? He took to the floor...somewhat, knees planted upon the ground of the room, and partially upon the side of the bed with his head cradled in his own arms, because his worries became great enough. Here is where he is when he motions into moving in sitting right up, golden eyes blinking a bit.
He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but here we are.
His hair is probably ever the more messier than it is usually, and sleeping in semi-armor is not the most comfortable thing to do, but it is what it is.
He'll pull back his arms and head to look quickly just to see how Solomon is doing from his awkward sitting position on the floor, running a hand through his unkempt hair.
At some point between this and now if magic needed to be used to get the blood out of sheets or clothing and no one has taken care of it, Jing Yuan will. It's still a subset of transformation magic by changing the properties of cloth even if a proper wash would still be needed.
He doesn't exactly rouse Solomon immediately following healing because he needs his sleep. Though, he does leave and return to check on him again on the next day, more or less, something in his hands. ]
Solomon?
[ Jing Yuan's voice is careful; gentle, prodding. He has brought tea...the man's going to need fluids, after all. ]
[There isn't much activity from him the first 24 hours. Though the healing efforts are successful in stabilizing him, that consciousness he wades through is fleeting and only semi-aware, exhausted and disoriented. So he spends a majority of his time asleep - mercifully, perhaps, it doesn't seem to be fitful.
Though the bed appears to be fine, Solomon's clothes are a mess, both in sheer damage and in the amount of red that's now soaked through the white linens of his outfit. It will take some time for cleanup, but Jing Yuan should be able to manage it.
Solomon is still out like a light the following morning. But the verbal rousing at least earns a reaction this time - a distinct stirring, a tension of the features and changing of the breath as he drifts partially out from sleep.]
Mmn. [It's a half-awake vocalization, his eyes still closed. Jing Yuan may need to try again.]
[ Look, Bruno isn't even knocking as he comes in with a fairly simple breakfast of oatmeal with fruit and some coffee for Solomon. He hexed this room himself. He may as well be the owner of it until those three days are up and Solomon's free to wander again.
He just... calls out, ]
I'm coming in! [ And then does just that. ] How are you feeling today, Solomon?
[Oh thank you god and also jesus that you're here in the evening, kiddo
There's a pause, and then a quiet response:]
Come in. The door is open.
[The door is, in fact, still completely unlocked. Solomon's finally migrated from his bed by later in the week, his normal outfit completely discarded in favor of a very loose chevron-knit sweater of a warm grey and a straight legged soft black pant, his neck exposed enough to show parts of the seals that dot his skin. He's still a little on the pale side from his seat next to the small fireplace near the front half of the room, a book in his lap and pen in his hand, writing slowly.
A beat, glancing up, before he does a bit of a double take as his wrist slows to a halt.]
[ While not particularly close to Solomon, he figures he owes the old man enough he might as well check in. Give it a few days to let them sleep off the worst, and he'll come around, knuckles rapping firm once, twice on Solomon's door around noon. ]
Hey. Solomon-san. [ No 'old man' right now! He's being nice. ] You up?
It's a cozy but oddly sparse space of a room, walls of stone and floors of old wood, a simple single bed and a small fireplace against one wall flanked by two plush red chairs with gnarled golden metal framing twisting the arms and legs into something rather antique and posh as well as comfortable. The desk near the center of the room is stacked with books upon books, pages and bottles and quills and drawings scattered to and fro. Bookcases line one of the walls, though they seem rather bare, now housing only the odd trinket or rolls of parchment tied off with string. Two oddly shaped snowmen sit on one of the shelves. A small cauldron sits close to the fireplace, though it looks like it's been relatively untouched for a while. Near the window is a wooden cubby with red cushions to lounge, and several golden clocks dot the space at the mantle, on the desks, at the windows... and alongside the window sits not only a celestial globe, but a telescope as well. In the corner opposite his desk sits a baby grand piano.
Solomon's finally migrated from his bed by later in the week, his normal outfit completely discarded in favor of a very loose chevron-knit sweater of a warm grey and a straight legged soft black pant, his neck exposed enough to show parts of the magical seals that dot his skin. He's still a little on the pale side from his seat next to the fireplace, a book in his lap and pen in his hand, writing slowly.
As Shinji slips into the room, he glances up with a tired smile, slipping the gold-flowered pen behind one ear]
[It's a ragged call back from further in the room. Ahito will be able to sense Bruno's magic on the door. It seems that, even if Solomon could get up, he wouldn't be going anywhere.
It's a cozy but oddly sparse space of a room, walls of stone and floors of old wood, a simple single bed and a small fireplace against one wall flanked by two plush red chairs with gnarled golden metal framing twisting the arms and legs into something rather antique and posh as well as comfortable. The desk near the center of the room is stacked with books upon books, pages and bottles and quills and drawings scattered to and fro. Bookcases line one of the walls, though they seem rather bare, now housing only the odd trinket or rolls of parchment tied off with string. Two oddly shaped snowmen sit on one of the shelves. A small cauldron sits close to the fireplace, though it looks like it's been relatively untouched for a while. Near the window is a wooden cubby with red cushions to lounge, and several golden clocks dot the space at the mantle, on the desks, at the windows... and alongside the window sits not only a celestial globe, but a telescope as well. In the corner opposite his desk sits a baby grand piano.
Still bedridden, Solomon is at least sitting up at this point, propped up against pillows and the headboard of the bed, a partially blank book resting against his legs as he struggles to control his pen. He's still very pale, but he looks alert enough when he turns his head to look towards the open door...
... and his entire expression falls into relief.]
You're okay. Thank goodness.
Please, grab a chair. I want to hear what else happened.
It's a cozy but oddly sparse space of a room, walls of stone and floors of old wood, a simple single bed and a small fireplace against one wall flanked by two plush red chairs with gnarled golden metal framing twisting the arms and legs into something rather antique and posh as well as comfortable. The desk near the center of the room is stacked with books upon books, pages and bottles and quills and drawings scattered to and fro. Bookcases line one of the walls, though they seem rather bare, now housing only the odd trinket or rolls of parchment tied off with string. Two oddly shaped snowmen sit on one of the shelves. A small cauldron sits close to the fireplace, though it looks like it's been relatively untouched for a while. Near the window is a wooden cubby with red cushions to lounge, and several golden clocks dot the space at the mantle, on the desks, at the windows... and alongside the window sits not only a celestial globe, but a telescope as well. In the corner opposite his desk sits a baby grand piano.
Solomon's finally migrated from his bed by later in the week, his normal outfit completely discarded in favor of a very loose chevron-knit sweater of a warm grey and a straight legged soft black pant, his neck exposed enough to show parts of the magical seals that dot his skin. He's still a little on the pale side from his seat next to the fireplace, a book in his lap and pen in his hand, writing slowly.
As the Sage slips into the room, Solomon looks up to get a better look... and grows very still when he sees who has finally made his rounds.]
Tatara.
[A tired exhale through the nose as he slips his pen behind his ear.]
I was wondering when you were going to stop by. Were the others able to let you know what happened?
7am, outside the South Tower. I will not remind you again.
-S
When Saturday morning comes around, whenever Akira decides to show up, he will find Solomon's broom leaning up near the elevator outside the South Tower, and very obvious traces of his magic in the air, but no immediate sign of the sorcerer himself.]
[Akira doesn't know what to expect from Solomon when Saturday rolls around, but that's par for the course when dealing with the man. He's dressed in comfortable, breathable clothes and has nothing resembling a weapon on him when he arrives at their destination, sensing traces of the old man's magic on the air... but where is he?
For now, he'll grab Solomon's broom and fuck around with it until grandpa shows his face.]
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sometime during the first week bc time is fake
There's not even an inside or a light source...really, the technology here...
[ the first problem might be that he's referring to a broom as technology but he is doing his best. ]
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At least, those were his plans. His morbid curiosity gets the better of him as always, though, taking pause at the young man with his broom summoned.]
I'm sure it could always be worse. [Boo. Hope you don't get spooked easily by surprise conversation, Khun.]
Going flying this late at night?
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I LOST THIS NOTIF I AM SORRY
its daijoubu!
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OVERFLOW EVENT 1 - Ginger
Hahah - It would be nice if this were just a show, wouldn't it?
We could always run relays for magic practice. Maybe we could make it a sports day of our own?
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“We” - like… you and me?
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OVERFLOW EVENT 1 - Malice
[He'll shrug his coat off at one of the tables.]
Let me know if you can't read any of the texts you find. I know quite a few of these languages.
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There are a lotta other languages, huh? [Or are these all the same one??] I'm gonna have'ta start a collection for you at this point.
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OVERFLOW EVENT 1 - Kiryu
I'll keep you informed of what I know of the North in exchange, of course, so long as you can keep your ear to Central. Does that sound reasonable?
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[Kiryu sure would like information as well! A brawler he is, but there's a strategic mind here as well when he tries]
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OVERFLOW EVENT 1 - Syrlya
I think it makes the flavor rather complex.
[He'll even take another piece for himself, very happily. He has not seemed to take this as a criticism.]
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OVERFLOW EVENT 1 - Shinjiro
[:)]
Of course I meant to fix it. I'm not an animal. [God, this kid do be assuming stuff left and right.] Will you let me touch it this time without slapping my wrist, or should I go on the offensive and fight you for the honor?
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[ Shinjiro thinks anybody would react that way walking in to a small housefire, but you do you, Solomon.
Also, don't think he hasn't noticed he's very much ignoring the callout. ]
And you coulda fooled me, if you could breathe through all that smoke. [ Hmph. He's giving Solomon a wary side-eye, but he finally steps back from the pan. For Now ] Fine. If you're gonna do it, then do it; not interested in any magic fights.
[ Physical, however...do you know how to brawl, old man. ]
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OVERFLOW EVENT 1 - Comet
Manu Propria.
[The air ripples immediately with a sparking of light from the end of his wand. The seal remains dormant, but the sorcerer continues.]
"Hear me, denizens of darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it. Hear me and do as I command."
[...
Though it sounds like the incantation is meant to keep going, the continued lack of response from the seal has Solomon lowering his focus with a firm exhale through the nose, letting the pulse of magic die down around him. His free hand runs back through his hair.]
Well. That answers that for now, I suppose. What a shame.
ESCAPE FROM CAPTCHA
Alas. It seemed like something was happening! ]
Were you trying to call upon a demon?
[ Um, for something like that as the first thing to practice in a new place... at least Comet asks sincerely like it's not a little crazy. Even if it might be.
It's like sorcerer's are normally like that. Or more enthusiastic practitioners of magic. Hehe. ]
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OVERFLOW EVENT 1 - Ithaqua
[Cup found, let him quickly taste... oh, this is actually better than he expected! Terrific.]
I suppose that is a lot of assumption on my part, though. What would you call yourself, Ithaqua?
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An abominable snowman, if you will. [Well, that's more of what the townspeople call him-- even the name he's called by comes from them. The title of "beast" comes from him and him alone.]
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OVERFLOW EVENT 1 - Jing Yuan
Ah, sorry. You can call me Solomon. The pleasure's all mine.
[Another tap of his wand to the pan, and the mixture inside it immediately shatters into a million tiny pieces, imploding in on itself.]
There we are!
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With the presence of magic, humans one would think they should be to extend their lives in some way, no?
[ Clearly not, though. Jing Yuan does know it isn't just a matter of 'simply magic' in order to extend a being's lifespan. ]
I suppose you could say it's natural. For us, at least. Though, other worlds could have other reasons for having long-lived humans.
...Also, is that your way of performing clean-up with whatever you just made?
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nebulous time post-east mission arrival
Jing Yuan is taking it upon himself to do something like a check-in with certain people even following all of that at certain points on the same day. But, he will also bring something with him...
His chessboard, that is, just in case Solomon is feeling up to a distraction. Anyway, once he reaches the other man's room, he gives the door a knock. ]
Solomon? May I have a moment of your time?
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A beat, and he shakes the momentary pause away, his smile apologetic.]
Ah, Jing Yuan. Of course, of course. Give me just a minute to put some of my notes away.
[It's a cozy put oddly sparse space of a room, walls of stone and floors of old wood, a simple single bed and a small fireplace against one wall. The desk near the center of the room is stacked with books upon books, pages and bottles and quills and drawings scattered to and fro. Bookcases line one of the walls, though they seem rather bare, now housing only the odd trinket or rolls of parchment tied off with string. A small cauldron sits close to the fireplace, though it looks like it's been relatively untouched for a while. Near the window is a wooden cubby with red cushions to lounge, and several golden clocks dot the space at the mantle, on the desks, at the windows... and alongside the window sits not only a celestial globe, but a telescope as well.
In the corner opposite his desk now sits the baby grand piano.
Solomon nonchalantly moves to tap a quill clean of ink against a well-used rag, rolling up the parchment he'd been working on.]
I don't ever get house calls. Did you need me somewhere?
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here we goooo
There was a lot of debate (with himself and also Rodrigo, who cutely listened while nibbling on a cracker) about what to do. Bruno is not a naturally confrontational person. The thought scares him, expecting the worst to come of it, but breaking into Solomon's room seemed no better. At least if he was direct...
If he was direct, he would at least not be acting shady like Solomon obviously is. Besides, he's already punched the guy once. He can do it again! If he has to! So! Confrontational it is! ]
...right, this is fine, this'll be fine. [ That said, he's still trying to build up courage, muttering to himself as he stops outside the door. ] Someone has to do this... it's important... you'll be okay, Bruno, c'mon... he probably won't curse you... or turn you into something... or... or anything else... terrible...
[ Aaaand here he goes, raising a hand to knock on Solomon's door. ]
We pray for Bruno, you got this buddy
Ah, Señor Madrigal! What can I do for you?
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after easties come back from mission
In his arms, he has one of his nicest bouquets. It’s… not enough at all, after he’d seen that look in Solomon’s eyes that said he was - disappointed, maybe - in Ginger. But. Ginger has long resigned himself to never being enough. He only is - what he is.
As with everything, he hesitates - debates in circles with himself (what is the point in trying still, but - he wants to. He doesn’t… dislike Solomon.) - before he finally knocks.
(… He doesn’t want to be disliked by Solomon…) ]
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Oh. Flowers?]
Ginger?
My, where did you get those?
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1/2
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before north mission!
The bag waits patiently for the room's owner to find it before they leave - or when they return. ]
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There is still not a trace of Solomon in the manor right now, it seems.]
/2 (post north mission)
during north mission
A little bit more, and... there. It's open.]
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It's a cozy but oddly sparse space of a room, walls of stone and floors of old wood, a simple single bed and a small fireplace against one wall flanked by two plush red chairs with gnarled golden metal framing twisting the arms and legs into something rather antique and posh as well as comfortable. The desk near the center of the room is stacked with books upon books, pages and bottles and quills and drawings scattered to and fro. Bookcases line one of the walls, though they seem rather bare, now housing only the odd trinket or rolls of parchment tied off with string. Two oddly shaped snowmen sit on one of the shelves. A small cauldron sits close to the fireplace, though it looks like it's been relatively untouched for a while. Near the window is a wooden cubby with red cushions to lounge, and several golden clocks dot the space at the mantle, on the desks, at the windows... and alongside the window sits not only a celestial globe, but a telescope as well. In the corner opposite his desk sits a baby grand piano.]
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post-north mission
Jing Yuan has joined them for the trip, so when Akira needs his arms freed up to undo the seal, that's who he hands Solomon to. Bruno, bless his heart, doesn't look like he'd have a good time carrying this man even ten feet to his bed.
The seal sizzles and cracks, dissipating into the open air. Throwing the door open wide, he lets Jing Yuan and Bruno enter first and closes the door behind himself.]
...Bruno. Do you need help healing? I can help, so don't exhaust yourself on him.
[It's quite possible he'll need more than one set of hands to be brought back from the brink.]
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[ Bruno is fine with letting Jing Yuan take over carrying Solomon, so the most he'll do once he's in the room is wave him over to the bed. That's the obvious place to set Solomon down. ]
Let me get a closer look, okay?
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1/2
2/2
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as promised, post-arrival, post-healing
He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but here we are.
His hair is probably ever the more messier than it is usually, and sleeping in semi-armor is not the most comfortable thing to do, but it is what it is.
He'll pull back his arms and head to look quickly just to see how Solomon is doing from his awkward sitting position on the floor, running a hand through his unkempt hair.
At some point between this and now if magic needed to be used to get the blood out of sheets or clothing and no one has taken care of it, Jing Yuan will. It's still a subset of transformation magic by changing the properties of cloth even if a proper wash would still be needed.
He doesn't exactly rouse Solomon immediately following healing because he needs his sleep. Though, he does leave and return to check on him again on the next day, more or less, something in his hands. ]
Solomon?
[ Jing Yuan's voice is careful; gentle, prodding. He has brought tea...the man's going to need fluids, after all. ]
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Though the bed appears to be fine, Solomon's clothes are a mess, both in sheer damage and in the amount of red that's now soaked through the white linens of his outfit. It will take some time for cleanup, but Jing Yuan should be able to manage it.
Solomon is still out like a light the following morning. But the verbal rousing at least earns a reaction this time - a distinct stirring, a tension of the features and changing of the breath as he drifts partially out from sleep.]
Mmn. [It's a half-awake vocalization, his eyes still closed. Jing Yuan may need to try again.]
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Post-North mission
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[A call from beyond the door. Someone is still in Bed Jail, unfortunately, but at least he's responsive!]
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post-north mission
He just... calls out, ]
I'm coming in! [ And then does just that. ] How are you feeling today, Solomon?
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Hello, Bruno.]
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There's a pause, and then a quiet response:]
Come in. The door is open.
[The door is, in fact, still completely unlocked. Solomon's finally migrated from his bed by later in the week, his normal outfit completely discarded in favor of a very loose chevron-knit sweater of a warm grey and a straight legged soft black pant, his neck exposed enough to show parts of the seals that dot his skin. He's still a little on the pale side from his seat next to the small fireplace near the front half of the room, a book in his lap and pen in his hand, writing slowly.
A beat, glancing up, before he does a bit of a double take as his wrist slows to a halt.]
Mm? Mika?
What is it?
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rolls back in here so late good luck with finals
About three days or so post North mission
Hey. Solomon-san. [ No 'old man' right now! He's being nice. ] You up?
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Come in. It's open.
[The door is, in fact, still completely unlocked.
It's a cozy but oddly sparse space of a room, walls of stone and floors of old wood, a simple single bed and a small fireplace against one wall flanked by two plush red chairs with gnarled golden metal framing twisting the arms and legs into something rather antique and posh as well as comfortable. The desk near the center of the room is stacked with books upon books, pages and bottles and quills and drawings scattered to and fro. Bookcases line one of the walls, though they seem rather bare, now housing only the odd trinket or rolls of parchment tied off with string. Two oddly shaped snowmen sit on one of the shelves. A small cauldron sits close to the fireplace, though it looks like it's been relatively untouched for a while. Near the window is a wooden cubby with red cushions to lounge, and several golden clocks dot the space at the mantle, on the desks, at the windows... and alongside the window sits not only a celestial globe, but a telescope as well. In the corner opposite his desk sits a baby grand piano.
Solomon's finally migrated from his bed by later in the week, his normal outfit completely discarded in favor of a very loose chevron-knit sweater of a warm grey and a straight legged soft black pant, his neck exposed enough to show parts of the magical seals that dot his skin. He's still a little on the pale side from his seat next to the fireplace, a book in his lap and pen in his hand, writing slowly.
As Shinji slips into the room, he glances up with a tired smile, slipping the gold-flowered pen behind one ear]
What can I do for you, Aragaki-kun?
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Two days post-mission
Don't make him regret his visit, old man.]
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[It's a ragged call back from further in the room. Ahito will be able to sense Bruno's magic on the door. It seems that, even if Solomon could get up, he wouldn't be going anywhere.
It's a cozy but oddly sparse space of a room, walls of stone and floors of old wood, a simple single bed and a small fireplace against one wall flanked by two plush red chairs with gnarled golden metal framing twisting the arms and legs into something rather antique and posh as well as comfortable. The desk near the center of the room is stacked with books upon books, pages and bottles and quills and drawings scattered to and fro. Bookcases line one of the walls, though they seem rather bare, now housing only the odd trinket or rolls of parchment tied off with string. Two oddly shaped snowmen sit on one of the shelves. A small cauldron sits close to the fireplace, though it looks like it's been relatively untouched for a while. Near the window is a wooden cubby with red cushions to lounge, and several golden clocks dot the space at the mantle, on the desks, at the windows... and alongside the window sits not only a celestial globe, but a telescope as well. In the corner opposite his desk sits a baby grand piano.
Still bedridden, Solomon is at least sitting up at this point, propped up against pillows and the headboard of the bed, a partially blank book resting against his legs as he struggles to control his pen. He's still very pale, but he looks alert enough when he turns his head to look towards the open door...
... and his entire expression falls into relief.]
You're okay. Thank goodness.
Please, grab a chair. I want to hear what else happened.
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mid week 8
When he does, it's with a soft knock. Open up, old man... ]
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Come in. It's open.
[The door is, in fact, completely unlocked.
It's a cozy but oddly sparse space of a room, walls of stone and floors of old wood, a simple single bed and a small fireplace against one wall flanked by two plush red chairs with gnarled golden metal framing twisting the arms and legs into something rather antique and posh as well as comfortable. The desk near the center of the room is stacked with books upon books, pages and bottles and quills and drawings scattered to and fro. Bookcases line one of the walls, though they seem rather bare, now housing only the odd trinket or rolls of parchment tied off with string. Two oddly shaped snowmen sit on one of the shelves. A small cauldron sits close to the fireplace, though it looks like it's been relatively untouched for a while. Near the window is a wooden cubby with red cushions to lounge, and several golden clocks dot the space at the mantle, on the desks, at the windows... and alongside the window sits not only a celestial globe, but a telescope as well. In the corner opposite his desk sits a baby grand piano.
Solomon's finally migrated from his bed by later in the week, his normal outfit completely discarded in favor of a very loose chevron-knit sweater of a warm grey and a straight legged soft black pant, his neck exposed enough to show parts of the magical seals that dot his skin. He's still a little on the pale side from his seat next to the fireplace, a book in his lap and pen in his hand, writing slowly.
As the Sage slips into the room, Solomon looks up to get a better look... and grows very still when he sees who has finally made his rounds.]
Tatara.
[A tired exhale through the nose as he slips his pen behind his ear.]
I was wondering when you were going to stop by. Were the others able to let you know what happened?
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For AKIRA: Saturday before wests vanish
I hope the vacation has been restful.
I was not joking about your training.
7am, outside the South Tower. I will not remind you again.
-S
When Saturday morning comes around, whenever Akira decides to show up, he will find Solomon's broom leaning up near the elevator outside the South Tower, and very obvious traces of his magic in the air, but no immediate sign of the sorcerer himself.]
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For now, he'll grab Solomon's broom and fuck around with it until grandpa shows his face.]
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Post-meeting
(Not immediately after, because he and Day are both a little bit emotionally bruised and needed to hug it out, but.)]
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His eyes brighten on opening the door.]
Ah, good, you remembered my invitation. Hello there, Phil.
Would you like to come in, or should we find somewhere a little more open to have a talk?
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