Gun Show in the Library with the Rifle | Day 4 - Morning/Day | Open

[subtleserenity]

[Scenario A: Only those who have had previous positive interactions with Zoe, please!]

( Well, as soon as I get my gun... )

[Scenario B: Anyone who would like to have Zoe prod at their possession form like the possession prodder that she is can tag into this one!]

( I'll point it out the window at the setting sun )

[Scenario C: Anyone who would like to have Zoe approach them as a person can tag into this one!]

( As soon as I get my gun... )

What's this? What's this? There's weird shit everywhere | Day Four, Morning [OPEN]

[justbeclaws]

No one not intimately familiar with the library would notice, but there have been some rearrangements of furniture in one particular out-of-the-way corner. Said corner, and the burnished oak desk inside it, are screened from the stacks even more than they already were, inaccessible to anyone unwilling to climb over some extremely uncomfortable-looking chairs.

Or crawl under them, of course.

Her den arranged to her immediate satisfaction, the typewriter makes her way forth in search of something less immediately satisfying: the lay of the land. She wants to know where things are, including people (and people who are also things). And who knows, perhaps there will be information hidden somewhere about the house and its Keeper, secrets not even Mason knows.

It seems right to her that a moderately stealthy expedition (there's no reason to be stealthy, particularly, but she doesn't really trust anything around her) should take place in the morning. Whether or not she's right about this remains to be seen.

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?? | Day 4 | Open

[ironspirit]

[Scenario A: literally anywhere in the house]

The first few days of searching hadn't been very successful, but the firebrand wasn't easily discouraged. It was clear by now that if his sister was here, she was either somewhere in the house he couldn't reach or intentionally trying to hide from him. He was left with no other choice.

Dragging himself along with one awkwardly-held hand, the sword wandered his way through the rooms and halls of his Keeper's house. It was hard not to notice him, being on fire and all (though he really did try his best to keep it down when he got to the gardens, this time). If that wasn't enough to draw anyone's attention, he offered a fiery wave and a shout to anyone who crossed his path. Maybe it'd be worthwhile to see what he wanted?

And, well, if for some reason a flaming sword-guy made them want to run for it, he was a pretty good runner...

[Scenario B: the hearth room, only one please!]

When the sword finally made his way back to the hearth room, he was entirely worn out. After spending his first few days in the house stubbornly lugging himself around, he'd already come to the conclusion that he needed something to carry himself with. This would be a simple matter, if only he wasn't so heavy and also on fire all the time. The list of materials that could be used to carry such a large, flammable weapon was unfortunately lacking. He'd done some searching anyway, whenever he had a moment to spare and a potentially-fireproof fabric within arm's reach, but rather than returning empty-handed he had no choice but to drag himself down the spiral staircase on his own. At least metal didn't sweat. If it did, he would've dropped himself a dozen times already thanks to his shoddy grip.

But something caught his eye before he could collapse into a chair and complain to himself—a bright red curtain tucked away in the corner of the room. He paused in front of the hearth. Well, if anything around here was going to be fireproof, it would probably be in the room with all the fire in it...

When his guess turned out to be correct, it was just a matter of getting the damn thing off the wall. The sword stood on the ends of his metal toes, trying to snip off a decent-sized chunk of the divider with his fingers. No one would even notice it was shorter.

... If he could cut it evenly, maybe. That was seeming more and more unlikely by the minute.