The Dining Hall | Day 8 | Afternoon

[infernoandhearth]

Scenario 1: Waking Up

He is surrounded by bindings, by chains, and he burns. Not the friendly burn of fire, but the vicious burn of poison, acid. And he's so tired, he's been there for so long, long enough to amend for any misdeed, really. He thinks he's just wanted where he can be accessed most easily. He won't stand for it. Struggling, he pulls himself out of the memory and onto the floor, beside himself.

Still trapped, he sees, barred up no matter where he is. Restricted no matter the punishment or the captors. That's alright. Now that he's free to roam a larger prison he can start in on some of those revenges he feels certain he'd been thinking up, even if he thinks they might have been for someone else. He just needs to determine where his jailer has disappeared to, and what his resources are so he can start.

Scenario 2: Dinner

His fire body in the brazier will only hold so many of those vines threading around the floor so he decides to attempt to sate his hunger the...usual way? That seems right. It's a bit of a climb but it isn't long before he's settling in, not much bothered by table manners, or how most people don't occasionally set their food on fire before cramming it into their mouth.

MASON BOTHERS SOME PEOPLE | Afternoon Day 8

[mazeonry]

[To Crab Guy:]

Hey crab guy. Yeah, you there, I don't recall there being any others. I remember you saying something along the lines of being willing to perform some particular guarding duties involving certain walking fire hazards. Is that still true?


[To Gloom Bird:]

Hey, so...how do you feel about...extracurricular activities, you could say?


[To Sooty Girl:]

You.

PROBLEM SOLVERS | Days 7-9

[brassandblood]

Scenario A - The Dining Hall

[ You may find the forge - now called Ember - around here quite a lot over the days following the vines' retreat. She's often pacing around the huge table on the floor, looking at its structure carefully; or scaling it, taking measurements and examining the table's edge; or sometimes using her power over metal to peel away large strips from the giant dinner plates set out for the residents. She's obviously busy, but she'll stop to talk if anyone cares to ask what she's up to. ]

Scenario B - The Hearth Room

[ Ember is often laboring away over her possession-body, using its heat to help craft the metal she's brought back from the dining hall as she'd like without having to use up so much of her magic to do it. She may be twining together long, sturdy cables of metal rope, or molding small chunks of metal into pulleys, or crafting rods into sharp and durable nails, or bending long strips of metal into a wire frame. When she's working so hard, she could probably use a reminder to take a break and rest sometimes. ]

Candle in the Wind | Day 8 | Afternoon/Evening [CLOSED]

[fireband]

[The Grand Hall | Afternoon | for Crab Guy]

He can barely comprehend the change in location when he's finally set free. He's sick and he's scared and he's so very tired. The lights of the hall are blinding, and after days of being trapped in a downpour, the silence is startling.

The hearth is in pain. His body is soaking wet and caked with mud, far more than someone like him ever should be. The moisture dully sizzles against the cracked fire in his skin, but even the veins are dim and grey. His skin seems to have taken on a literal ashen quality - the outer layers could break off in your hands like used charcoal.

He curls against the wall defensively very close to where he's been dropped. Mud and water puddles around him, but from the way he moves, it's unclear how much he even notices.


[The Hearth Room | Evening | CLOSED]

The hearth had stayed in the safety of his fire for the first while, but now he seems to have ventured outwards. He's curled up on the floor not too far away from it, wrapped in a makeshift blanket. He's visibly ill, and his usual radiant fire is weak sickly in appearance. His skin has taken on a literally ashen quality, and the outer layers breaks off into cinders. The blanket is sullied with it.

He feels more cold than he ever should. He felt better in his hearth, but he's found himself too afraid to return.


[If you wanna do action tags just start off that way and I'll follow suit.]

You don't have to be alone to be lonely | Day 8, Afternoon/Evening | Open

[ironspirit]

[The Garden, afternoon, for Gloom Bird]
( you might as well give in )

[The Hearth Room, evening and on, OPEN]

The sword is seated in one of the big armchairs of the hearth room, blanket wrapped loosely around his shoulders. He seems to be in somewhat better shape, compared to the fire lying nearby, but he itches. The cushion is flecked with mud and bits of rust, and as much as everyone has probably told him he shouldn't scratch that, he's totally been scratching that. A lot. Which makes it hurt and itch more.

He's also still shivering and cold and stiff, so when it comes down to it, being comparatively better off than the hearth doesn't actually mean a lot.


[The Dining Room, evening, OPEN to one]

At some point in the night, the sword not only manages to slip out of his "babysitter's" watchful guard, but makes it all the way to the dining room without collapsing. He probably could've just asked someone to bring him food, but... well, he can do it himself, and he doesn't want everyone to think he's a big baby. He's strong, he can take care of himself just fine.

The plan went smoothly, up until the part where he remembers how goddamn tall the dining table is. The answer is really goddamn tall.

The sword makes a few pathetic attempts to scale a leg, but in the end he's stuck sitting at the bottom, sore and frustrated. And probably still scratching at his rusty parts.