thechanged | Like Blood Lying on Snow | Day 37 - Afternoon

A gun doesn't care about the temperature. As long as it can spark, there's nothing to worry about. Precipitation is something slightly more problematic, even if it starts out frozen.

Scenario A (Open!)
It is particularly problematic when it's falling inside on instruction books you're trying to read from. The one Brimstone has at the moment is for getting outside. The steps are frustratingly simplified and provide little advice on how to actually accomplish any of them. When the first snowflakes hit the pages and begin melting, she looks upward for the source of the mysterious flurries, but they're just coming from the ceiling. She closes the book and goes to find the others roaming the house, noting that it's not just the library suffering the bizarre weather patterns. "You ever seen snow fallin' inside when there ain't a hole in the roof?"

Scenario B (Just one, please!)
Once she's gathered that, no, this is not a regular occurrence as far as anyone else can remember, Brimstone heads toward the only place that she knows there's a window. Maybe if she can climb up to it and see what's going on outside if might give an indication of what's going on inside. It's definitely a magical phenomenon, but it might be a naturally-occurring magical phenomenon. Possibly. She sets her jaw and starts to scale the wall below the ledge where Angel had found the window.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I've never seen snow, but I hate it already."

This guy's heading into the library about the same time she's exiting it. The cold doesn't particularly bother him so much--he has a pillowcase draped over him, but it's not pulled tightly around him--it's the snow that's being an issue.

"Is it in there too?"

Brimstone frowns at the pillowcase before it clicks. He's a journal. What are journals made of?

"Everywhere I can see," she replies. "Startin' to pile up on the shelves. You friends with Olive, yet? She's the green-ink typewriter. Got some kinda book fort, if you're lookin' for somethin' with a roof to keep dry, Zhǐ rén."

Ugh. 'Everywhere' is not what he wanted to hear.

"And everywhere else. Olive?" The name doesn't sound familiar, but the word 'typewriter' is equally foreign--he's not sure he's seen one, let alone one named Olive.

"I don't know her. Do you know where she is?"

Brimstone thinks it's a little strange that the writing tools don't know one another. She'd have thought they'd band together for some purpose. Possibly. It would make sense to her. She'd made herself an ally to Sapphire, the saber, and Jian, the firebrand, quickly as fellow weapons.

"Findin' her might be more touble'n findin' her fort," Brimstone says, glancing back toward the entrance to the library. She isn't about to suggest that a stranger hide in the typewriter's fort. That would end poorly for everyone involved. "We can start there. C'mon."

The rifle motions for him to follow her. "Findin' one of the fire folk might not be bad for you if we can't find her. Stay far enough away to keep from burnin' up, but close enough they keep the damp off." There's a slight pause of embarrassment as she continues just a touch sheepishly, "Is the other you safe away from the wet? Journal you."

This particular writing tool isn't super social unless he's really bored, forced to be social or if he happens to run into someone, like right now. Not that he's antisocial--he just hasn't met either typewriter or the other book.

"Well, I wasn't going to camp out in there if there was a chance I'd get kicked out." Maybe. Probably not.

He follows after her, shaking some of the snow off out of his hair and off of his shoulders. He was planning on finding the nearest fireplace at some point.

"Man, a fire would be so nice right now...huh? Yeah, it's just fine, I have it right here." Stopping to indicate that it's wedged in the front of his jacket, between his skin and the leather.

Brimstone doesn't know the journal well enough to have an opinion on the veracity of that claim about not camping without permission. Given that he seems easy enough to wound - tear? - she suspects it might be true for simple self-preservation purposes.

She glances over when he presents his other form and nods approvingly. Carrying it with himself makes much more sense to her than leaving it somewhere. Then, again, she'd put him under a shelf and flattened him.

"Hearth's probably runnin' around somewhere if you think he ain't like to go into fits around you. Met the firebrand earlier, but he was shiverin' like most." She adds a little more darkly, "Kitchen fire might do if you don't mind watchin' your back all the time 'round him." Much as she's loathe to recommend him, he is a source of heat and fire.

Well, the choices were attempting to get a drawer open and stick himself inside or carry him around and hope the leather of his jacket and cover stayed dry enough. And he actually didn't mind being flattened, except that it made him randomly sore after a while and also dulled his senses.

"The hearth and kitchen fire...got it. Why do I need to be careful around the kitchen fire?"

The kitchen fire he's probably seen in passing, but he can't recall meeting the hearth.

Brimstone can't help pulling up short for a moment to cast a mildly incredulous look at the journal. She continues, though, smoothing her features out. Maybe he'd slept through the whole of the murders? Lucky him. Lucky he hadn't found himself a victim.

"You remember anything about a few weeks past when we had a blackout? Shadows grabbin' at you. People gettin' murdered. Kitchen fire gettin' possessed by the spirit of an evil dagger."

Like Blood Lying on Snow | Day 37 - Afternoon | Multiple Places

A, near the library

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I could've sworn I answered this tag days ago o.o

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