Fire Man in the Slammer | Day One: Nightfall [OPEN]

[fireband]

[Scenario A: only one person for this one, please.]

It's already night by the time the hearth fire begins to wake up again. He's been lying in his own fire for hours, and the vein-like cracks have finally begun to flicker and glow again, like damp wood finally dry enough to burn. His naked body is curled amongst the charcoal and ashes, the closest thing he has to comfort.

Dreams come strangely, now. So much more vivid and controlled than anything - well, anything he can't remember. He doesn't think he dreamed, really, while he burned. But it feels different to him. Foreign, the way that it feels almost malleable at his fingertips. The way that strange things lurk on the vision's edges.

He only has so many memory to call from, and his dreams are predictable. He finds himself in a world created from that single memory, and the chaos of his awakening, and while it doesn't make any sense, somehow it finally forces it to sink in.

His eyes slowly open, and he sees the grated bars now set over the opening of the hearth. He's trapped, and it scares him, but at the same time he's far too tired to react violently.

So instead he just reaches out, threading his fingers through the bars and trying to shake them, a soft whimper coming from his throat. He knows that he was hunted, and that now he's being punished. He would beg for forgiveness, but he already knows that he won't be given any.


[Scenario B: anyone can tag into this one!]

The anger settles in his chest, as time ticks onward in his fireplace prison, becoming deeper but controlled. It's a low burning wrath, one that has no specific target, and therefore no way to be expressed properly. He feels like he's finally getting the first tastes of mourning, for the things that he's suffered. And the first deep seeded desires for retribution.

But he feels calmer, somehow. Resigned, maybe.

He sits with his legs curled to his chest, leaning against the stone, fire crackling and licking at his body while he stares through the bars dismally. He can't bring himself to call out, to ask for help. He won't give them the satisfaction.

I swear I start, To think, That I'm Going Crazy ✪ Open ✪ Night One

[herplaceinthesun]

[It's late, all scenes of day shifted to beautiful stars, and she is tired. But after all the excitement of the day, all the meeting people (and things!), and the confusion, she's wired. Maybe it's a little fear too, that she'll wake up and go back to what she'd been before. What if she remembers that, and doesn't have another thought to herself again? What if she forgets this?

But she guesses rest might be a good idea. It takes a bit, but she manages to take some pillows from the Master Bedroom, and a huge napkin from the dining room, and settles in the Library. She hadn't been there before, but it had to be the most boring place in the house! After all, the only thing that was in it was books.. Making a pile of the pillows and a not-quite-big enough blanket from the napkins, she settles in to read o-

Only to realize she can't understand any of it! What kind of crappy book was this? Huffing, she throws it across the room at full-strength. Of course, that means she has to go retrieve the damn thing before she tries to go to sleep. Mason seems like the kind of jerk that would wake you up to put back a book.

Now, it looked like it went that way . . .]

Me, myself, and I, we're nothing but actors ♞ open; Day 1 NIGHTFALL

[knightwinged]

Night in the gardens isn't really all that dark. The shadows stretch longer, sure, but for every shade that creeps its way across the grounds there are countless more motes of light that dance around and flicker in and out of one's senses.

Still, that doesn't mean there aren't places to be found where the light doesn't reach. Secluded, empty hollow centres of trees, protected glades and dimly lit, far reaching boughs. At least one of these is where the raven settles himself down for the night, but not to sleep, at least not yet.

(Some captive birds chatter when alone, if only to amuse themselves. He's far from a parrot, but some similarities can't be denied, even if the purpose is different.)

The gardens are likely only ever as quiet as the jungles they are patterned after, but should anyone be passing by it sounds almost undeniably like there's some hushed congregation going on within them, fragments and scraps of halves of conversation drifting softly through the air in scores of vaguely familiar voices, some more accurate, some not quite right, others entirely wrong (and therefore dismissible). Sometimes the pauses are longer, sometimes the voices break or shift, and so the whispered 'conversation' seems to take on a more tense, frustrated note then, but eventually it always returns to the quiet rhythm of before.

Maybe one might even recognize their own voice, if they listened long enough.

roofquest 20xx | Day 2 (Morning/Day) | Closed

[chromaticscale]

She's both rested and restless, a dangerous combination. After spending an unusual night in the garden ponds, so unlike what she's used to but comfortable none the less, she's ready to move on again. Singing quietly to herself, she sits on the rocks at the edge of the pond, waiting for her hair to dry some before setting off.

But... she doesn't really know where she's going, besides back into the rest of the house. She knows what her goal is: the roof. Ever since meeting that shiny fellow stuck in the tree, she has been growing more and more curious about the roof. Seeing as no punishments have been doled out (not that she knows of, anyhow) she decides that now is as good a time as any to try and find her way up there. Otherwise she might never get to see it.

She can't go it alone, though, nor would she want to. It just seems like the kind of thing to do with at least one other person, but since she doesn't have direct contact with anyone else, she has to make a detour before she can start her quest proper. She will scour the house all day and ask anyone she can find, even if it means asking every single being in the house. (And maybe even the house itself.)

One problem: it's hard trying not to shout and yet still get people's attention. Nothing that a tap on the should or arm won't fix, though!

[ ooc; feel free to also approach her earlier at her pond as well, if you'd like! Otherwise she will just be getting up in people's space everywhere and anywhere. I have many adventure friends now!! ]