Sherlock Holmes (Ruler) (
improbablenotimpossible) wrote in
daybreakacademy2019-10-05 08:53 pm
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Entry tags:
Case 2
Who: Sherlock Holmes, Open
When: Post Hunt, early October
Where: All over.
Warning: Talk of Hunt induce wtfery, will update as needed.
TEXT, September 27
UN: ThreeCoffins
I know I am not the only one who had fallen sway to the Wild Hunt's influence, and I want to apologize for what I might have done. My memory is unfortunately a blur for much of the night - this is an explanation not an excuse.
All I can say - I can assure you, that I have no intentions or desire to harm anyone when I am in my right mind, but I can understand any wariness you might have.
[Garage]
[The car he had driven off on that night was hauled back instead of being taken to a junk yard, and in the evenings, one can find the vampire dressed shockingly casual in oil-stained faded jeans and an old white with a hazy camel on the front. The windshield was shattered, but the hood is popped up, and he's leaning in, seeming completely focused on the engine block, for once not noticing if anyone's approaching, muttering to himself]
Figures there's misalignment... suspension needs work... when the hell did they last change out the oil filter?
[He seems quite absorbed in this]
[ANGRY VIOLIN NOISES]
[Music is his focus, and his escape - normally he would be in his room, but it was late at night so he sought out one of the auditoriums in Theater Lenormand, playing to what he thought would be an audience of zero, the bow angrily darting across the strings, his entire body jerking and twisting with the angry, frustrated melody that is coming out for almost an hour. Then as if he just burned out all his emotion, his bow drops from his hand, and he pitches backwards, falling into a chair, cradling the violin in his hand like it was a precious newborn]
[Library]
[Someone can be seen with stacks of books, many of them pertaining to the Hunt, and others towards mind-influencing magic, he is constantly cross-referencing and doubling up, writing by hand in a huge book filled with sticky notes and faded newspaper clippings, as well as typing it out into a laptop. Doubling the work, but also making sure he's less likely to lose his work.
Unfortunately this means he's hogging those books for the time being, as well as making an entire table unusable due to the mess he's making]
When: Post Hunt, early October
Where: All over.
Warning: Talk of Hunt induce wtfery, will update as needed.
TEXT, September 27
UN: ThreeCoffins
I know I am not the only one who had fallen sway to the Wild Hunt's influence, and I want to apologize for what I might have done. My memory is unfortunately a blur for much of the night - this is an explanation not an excuse.
All I can say - I can assure you, that I have no intentions or desire to harm anyone when I am in my right mind, but I can understand any wariness you might have.
[Garage]
[The car he had driven off on that night was hauled back instead of being taken to a junk yard, and in the evenings, one can find the vampire dressed shockingly casual in oil-stained faded jeans and an old white with a hazy camel on the front. The windshield was shattered, but the hood is popped up, and he's leaning in, seeming completely focused on the engine block, for once not noticing if anyone's approaching, muttering to himself]
Figures there's misalignment... suspension needs work... when the hell did they last change out the oil filter?
[He seems quite absorbed in this]
[ANGRY VIOLIN NOISES]
[Music is his focus, and his escape - normally he would be in his room, but it was late at night so he sought out one of the auditoriums in Theater Lenormand, playing to what he thought would be an audience of zero, the bow angrily darting across the strings, his entire body jerking and twisting with the angry, frustrated melody that is coming out for almost an hour. Then as if he just burned out all his emotion, his bow drops from his hand, and he pitches backwards, falling into a chair, cradling the violin in his hand like it was a precious newborn]
[Library]
[Someone can be seen with stacks of books, many of them pertaining to the Hunt, and others towards mind-influencing magic, he is constantly cross-referencing and doubling up, writing by hand in a huge book filled with sticky notes and faded newspaper clippings, as well as typing it out into a laptop. Doubling the work, but also making sure he's less likely to lose his work.
Unfortunately this means he's hogging those books for the time being, as well as making an entire table unusable due to the mess he's making]
VIOLIN NOISES
How long had he been there? Long enough, apparently.]
Such fury in that piece! the frustration was practically palpable.
no subject
Decided to take in a late show?
no subject
As for Moriarty himself, he shrugs.]
Mm, not really. Just taking a walk after a failed run, you see.
[...Speedrun, that is. He was so close to breaking a personal best, goddamnit.]
I heard the music from outside, so I decided to see who was playing in such an angry way. Imagine my surprise when I saw you!
no subject
[He asked, leaning to pick up the bow, the violin held close to his chest, though there's a certain flatness to his tone, a tiredness and an edge of frustration - perhaps from throwing himself into several things at once for the last few days]
no subject
[Moriarty sighs - coming up to see the Violin Sherlock is cradling so tightly, and his eyebrows going up when he gets a good look at it.]
There's no helping nature, and the Hunt is an amplification of it. You can't be blamed for finally giving in, you know.
no subject
[He exhales slowly]
I do not like losing control of my thoughts or my senses - I went through that with my sire, and it wasn't an experience I cared to repeat.
[As he saw the brows go up]
I see you notice the make of this.
no subject
[...]
Well, no. I suppose I actually don't. Losing control is something that's been a constant of my life, after all.
[He says it calmly, peacefully - something he's long come to terms with.]
Anyway, I do. Quite the priceless treasure, that. There are those in this world that would literally give up parts of their own body just to hold it - I suppose those same people would have wept to have seen your performance on it.
no subject
[He actually looked sheepish]
I had not meant to play that intensely... the problem with improvising.
no subject
[He gives a little chuckle at the look, moving away towards the back.]
Well, perhaps you just need someone to help you stay calm - Ah, so there is one in here!
[With a grin, he suddenly pulls out a piano from the back, the wheels moving smoothly across the floor. Grabbing a chair, he runs his hands along the keys, listening to the sound.]
Ah, good - seems as if it doesn't need any tuning.
[With that said, he starts a bit of Arabesque No. 1, before sliding into something more improvised, but still serene, eyes closing.]
no subject
There's quite a few musically inclined people in both the faculty and student body, so the instruments do get a work out...
[He closes his eyes, listening to the tune as the violin soon returns to position, bow resting]
Debussy - more low-key than I usually hear this being played...
[Then he joins, the bow gently gliding, fingers dancing against the neck]
no subject
[Though after he says that, he speaks no more - letting his fingers go forth and play for him, spilling himself out on the keys.
It's no surprise, then, that the music that springs forth is melancholic but also strangely hopeful and determined - along with a strong core that refuses to be drowned out, playing along as if to drag the violin with him...for the moment.]
no subject
[His eyes slipped closed, letting the melody catch him, seeming to wrap around his spine and wash over him. A counter melody started to come from his strings, inquisitive, seeking, with the same tones of melancholy and willfulness. For the moment, he seem content to follow along, but there's a few streaks of an impish chord, demanding to be noticed.
Perhaps Darwin was right - that music did come before speech, thus how it's so effective in changing one's state of mind]
no subject
At that inquisitiveness, that impish chord - he draws it in, a liveliness suddenly coming to the forefront, as if asking to play...or dance, causing a smile to cross his face.
Always the same, no matter the era.]
no subject
no subject
He's grinning now, rushing along, trying to sweep the man up in his own pace.]
UN: Akhet
Just an absolutely.
Wild.
Guess.
[She's not bitter at him at all, more bitter and angry at herself than anything else.]
Re: UN: Akhet
[Damnation, Kisara is a dragon - they're certainly predators]
That damn one-eyed hunter did a number on the lot of us.
no subject
[They are very much predators, despite how she acts nothing like one.]
If I never see them again, it will still be too soon. I may as well change my dorm number to the infirmary at this point.
no subject
Well, you will be out soon enough, though I can certainly remember the utter frustration of being stuck in bed
no subject
We can only hope something else doesn't pop up that causes me to get hurt again. You would think a magical school could figure out a way to heal things quicker, which work on magical resistant types...
Not the most fun way to find out you're resistant to magic even while not a dragon.
no subject
Good lord. Yes, that would be an issue, the sciences haven't caught up to what magic can do unfortunately, so the resistant end up in your position.
garage
(Ever since the Wild Hunt, he's dreamed of a strange place full of fog. Something that hums and throbs with mechanical noises. It feels like his memory, but try as he might, he can never match it to anything he remembers.)
He drifts over to Sherlock, wondering what he's doing this time. He seems to have all sorts of interesting things going on, so Vivi hopes that he doesn't mind company. ]
Are you fixing it or breaking it?
[ He doesn't know a lot about cars. ]
Re: garage
Ah-!
[He sharply hisses in pain, eyes closing as he quickly turns, seeing Vivi]
Oh - you startled me. I'm assessing it right now, see how much it can be fixed.
no subject
[ He still seems a bit high strung, but after a moment, he sort of. Gets a grip. Calms down a little. He's trying. ]
Oh...Did it get damaged in that hunting thing..?
no subject
[He shook his head, before stepping back]
It did - I was trying to take out some of the hunters... and got a spear through the windshield for my trouble.
no subject
Can you fix something like that? The, um, windshield. Or do you have to get a new one?
no subject
[He turns around, leaning against the car]
How have you been holding up?
no subject
[ Even if Sherlock wasn't an expert in reading body language, Vivi is about as able to conceal his emotions as a labrador puppy. ]
Um...I've been okay. [ not really ] Just thinking about stuff.
no subject
[He murmurs, more to himself]
What's on your mind, Vivi?
no subject
[ He takes a while to respond. It's uncharacteristic of him, when he's generally just as eager to answer as he is to ask. ]
I felt weird, during the Hunt. Not normal weird, not scared or anything. I just felt...really angry. Like I wanted to destroy things.
I don't really understand it. But, um...I think it has something to do with what I don't remember. The stuff I lost...falling off the airship.
no subject
It's not a good feeling at all, I had it until Moriarty managed to pull me free of it...
[Then as Vivi continues, his mind jumps - airship, falling, losing his memory on impact? he remembered that tree from the dream]
Perhaps, the hunt seemed to tug at whatever instincts it could grab a hold of, my instincts as a Vampire for example.
no subject
Instincts? I guess I could have those... They're not affected by memories, right?
no subject
[He almost puts his hand to his hair, before remembering it's covered with grime, letting it settle in his lap]
That's correct, instincts are... an inherent part of a living being, automatic responses - they can be improved on, of course, but they still function without memory. For examples, without being taught to - infants know they need to cry if they need help.
no subject
I dunno what that says about me, though. [ Nothing good, maybe. ]
Library
... Quite busy, I see.
Re: Library
[He glances up, placing a sticky note on the page he's writing on. One gets the impression if he were human, there would be bags under his eyes]
Oh. Which books did you need?
no subject
[There were some of the books that Sherlock hadn't managed to get in V's stack. The others point to dreams and magic related to that...
Plus a few on other, more daemonic denizens of the Outlands, for an unrelated matter.]
I can at least wait until you've finished... though, perhaps it wouldn't be remiss to work together.
no subject
[He rests his chin on his hand, eyes gliding over the spine of the books V is carrying]
no subject
... I suppose having to research these sorts of countermeasures was somewhat inevitable. I just hadn't anticipated it being so soon.
no subject
[It was more habit than anything that made him stifle a yawn that was more psychological than from any actual tiredness]
I'll have to organize this in they need the data and I would not be awake to deliver it.
un: mortiscausa
Not my finest moment, that night. But hey, guess who's NOT in the infirmary!
[it's a not Christmas miracle]
Re: un: mortiscausa
That's surprising, given your reputation.
no subject
Other parts of that night aside, of course.
But misery loves company and all that. Better everyone else got to suffer with you, eh?
no subject
Say, were you a hound during that?
no subject
Library
Re: Library
[He asked for clarification, as he looks over the stack, given Rex's height it is indeed a massive pile]
And noted - I generally do not get hassled too much, but I suspect because some of the Librarians believe I am a staff member.
no subject
[ Though Rex's method proves to be a bit different as he starts to set up shop on the table next to Sherlock's. He arranges some of the stack into a semi-circle around him, each book opened flat. His eyes glide over two pages at once, then he turns his head to the next one, turning the page on the previous without looking. ]
May I enquire as to what you are researching?
no subject
[He didn't even consider odd enough to be worth commenting over, giving a slight nod at Rex's arrangement - he started off that way himself, but it certainly drifted into the chaos they have now]
Well, more on the Hunt that went through - their behavior was noted to be highly unusual, changes in patterns are quite telling, it comes to deducing why it changes. And also barriers, warding marks, and the like.