THE JARS THAT BLEED BEFORE THEY BREAK.

[glassjar]

Congrats! You've somehow stumbled upon the pocket dimension where five people with questionable morals (some more questionable than others) live and operate. Are you here on business? Do you have an appointment? Or are you here to see a friend? (Come on, don't make us laugh.)

Maybe you're here on accident due to some multiversal, magical, or otherwise supernatural nonsense? It's happened before, it was bound to happen again.

You can wander towards the house, see if anyone's home. Or you can explore the lush grounds, and maybe run across the wolfman groundskeeper who might try to usher you out towards the nearest portal, anyway. The world is your oyster, just try to be a good guest.

Comments

THOMAS DURAND.

[spacecaser]

[A man named Thomas sways gently on his feet, reaching out to grab you delicately by the arm, smiling lazily and declaring:]

Dance with me.

[Or maybe he's just leaning up against a tree, cigarette hanging tiredly from his mouth one day, blood on his shirt, eyes dull.]

Boom, baby. [-he mutters to no one, and his eyes flicker a barely-there glow, and the tip of his cigarette lights glowing amber.

Or it's nighttime.

And his eyes are surging with a bright, unfettered glow, and he's spinning about in place in a clearing away from the house, tossing up huge swaths of colorful, heated energy straight into the sky. It burns into the atmosphere on the way up. One after the other, he lobs them into the bleakness of the night, and they explode in an impossibly intricate display of fireworks. Color, color everywhere. It almost turns night into day.

And he's just laughing, aimless and delighted the whole time.]

BOOM, BABY! Haha!

light show

[gembonds]

[Someone has been watching the light show for a while now.

The woman with voluminous dark hair has set up a chair for herself and each time light is tossed up into the sky, it reflects in her dark eyes. She wears a flattering dress with a long skirt that trails on the ground and she sits with her back straight enthralled with the sight that Thomas is displaying.

For the Crystalline Witch, Jacqueline Berna Oakes, the joy he has as he releases his power is akin to seeing a happy child. It brings up memories of Solomon and Iona, of them being actual children, chasing each other around with sparklers, and summer evenings full of dry heat.

When she arrived, no one would know but her. It was after Oren left (he'd have a hard time leaving her alone if he knew she had casually strolled into unfamiliar territory). This pocket was easier to step inside than she expected though it helped she purposefully concealed her presence until now.

Berna wants to try something.

In between each swath of energy, she holds out her palm and blows to create a steady stream of diamond dust. As Thomas's light fades, the glimmering dust follows to create an even more beautiful effect. The witch murmurs to herself:]

Hope that doesn't ruin his fun.

[spacecaser]

[Like a kid, delighted with a new toy — that, or a man chasing his high. The two do not have to be mutually exclusive, and with Thomas, the use of his powers encapsulates the feeling of both. It is a grand, grand release of all the energy that cycles back into him day in and day out, the sort that grants him his power and that awful, awful lucidity. Gone in a few minutes’ time with a dazzling light show every few nights.

It’s routine for those that live here. For years and years now, the sky is lit up vividly bright, and so few of them even care. Lyra is the only one who will watch, sometimes, from her spot near the pond, where his makeshift fireworks glisten across the water.

But that’s fine. As long as he can burn through his powers in a dizzying rush, that’s all that matters. If there’s not a job on hand, the sky will just have to do.]

Aah, it dazzles tonight—

[He remarks to no one in particular. He stops his spinning, looking up and grinning as a strange shimmer seems to trail behind each pop of color. Oh, no, that’s not his; he’s fairly certain it isn’t, anyway. Who, then? Who?

He spins on his heel. He sees no one in the darkness. Well, that’s fine.

He tosses up one more blast of energy, and it explodes in another shimmer. This time, the bright red crimson of a rose blossoming in the sky, made of light and energy. Will it shine and shimmer again? Whose talent is it?]

[gembonds]

[Berna grins as she watches Thomas glances around. It's quite dark, isn't it? She continues to stay where she is. When more energy is sent up to the sky, she lazily traces some runes in the air (it oscillates between red and gold) and sends them to the light.

When the crimson blossom begins to fade what falls from the sky is not diamond dust, but rose petals, actual physical petals, that float gently to the ground. The aroma of the actual flower fills the air as if freshly plucked.

Just like magic.]

[spacecaser]

[And when the rose in the sky bursts, down flutter strange little sensations, hard to see in the dark. A few catch in his hair, and he blinks, holding out a hand, catching some between his fingers.

His other hands summons a bright glow, illuminating what they are: petals. Rose petals.]

Ha... Now, now. This is not mine at all. This looks like magic.

[Is he talking to himself? Maybe a little bit. But then he throws the petals up in the air, and calls out into the nighttime. His tone is playful, drawn-out, almost impish. He's in a good mood right now.]

Hellooooo? Is someone out there?

[gembonds]

[A voice, melodious and playful speaks up.]

Behind you!

[And when Thomas turns around, she's closer, if not several good yards away. There are some floating orbs of light (her personal crystals— multipurpose and very useful) around her person to illuminate her figure.

A certain Emerald Witch once said this of Berna with near-complete disdain; she was blatantly beautiful.

Berna waves at Thomas, beaming.]

I enjoyed the show you put on. Very colorful, and very loud. I think I ought to visit every now and then just to watch.

[She looks anywhere between late 20s to her mid-30s. Despite her apparent youth the way she carries herself (confidence and complete serenity) and regards Thomas with a patronizing fondness seems to indicate something inhuman. Even when she hides her most striking features, something will always slip out.]

[spacecaser]

[His brows raise, delighted, and he spins around on his heel yet again, his long jacket whipping behind him. Dark curls of hair sway with the movement.

Who he sees is... a stranger. But a very beautiful stranger, and Thomas is struck silent for a moment, trying to parse what he's seeing. Oh, yes, she is definitely an oddity, even around here; and even in Thomas' half-giddy state, he can sense something utterly surreal about her. Something in the way she carries herself, or maybe something about the intonation of her words.

But he's not cautious, no. He seems amiable enough, if surprised.]

Flattery will get you everywhere, miss. I do like putting on a show, though usually it is for an audience of... zero.

[He laughs, and steps closer to her, casual and unhurried.]

So it is nice to have someone appreciate all the color. All of me up there, exploding into nothing. [Until he's drained and exhausted, and all he'll want to do is sleep. The second best thing.] Do you plan on it? Visiting now and again? Are you a guest?

[gembonds]

[Her chuckle is low and pleasant at his comment.]

I'm good at flattery... Good at receiving it too! I enjoy it too much, or so I'm told.

[Berna doesn't move from her spot; her lamp crystals continue to float in place so that they can see each other clearly.]

An audience of zero? [Her expression softens.]

Sounds lonely. Even with the others...? [Her eyes glance at the house in the distance.]

As for being a guest... Well, I invited myself. I hope that doesn't offend you.

[spacecaser]

[His grin widens. She seems like a nice sort, and when he's like this, that's all that matters. He doesn't care for the details of how she got here. Not his circus, not his monkeys!]

Not my circus, not my monkeys! [He echoes his own thoughts.] I'm not in charge, so I'm not obligated to be offended just because someone invites themselves in.

[He spreads his hands and shrugs. Here in the light of her strange crystals, he can see pretty well, he belatedly realizes.]

As for the others, this is no longer a novelty to them. Every two or three nights, I put on this show -- if we do not have work for me to otherwise burn away my energy. So, to them, it is boring. "Rote", is the word.

And it's not so lonely. It's fun. Sometimes Lyra watches if she's out late. Maybe she is afraid I will stumble into her pond like a drunkard.

celebrate the night

[gembonds]

[After a couple of weeks, it's almost time to close up shop. Most of Berna's ceramics and jewelry have sold well with little inventory left over. Lillian and Emil would round up the numbers and calculate when they could open up again and where since they make it a practice to not sell in the same location in such a short duration of time.

Her work has caused more of a buzz than usual (thank you Internet) that a wealthy patron, pleased with his purchase and wanting one last appearance from her, has given the artist an invitation to a charity ball and auction. Berna is more than happy to attend and donate her final piece to the auction, a large ceramic bowl painted with flowers inside (It looks elegant but normal enough. Blink, and the flowers shift in circles like an optical illusion and the aroma of blossoms waft ever so subtly when in the room).

She gets to choose her plus one for the event and tonight, Berna arrives at the fancy venue dressed to the nines, like a spring breeze. It's head-turning due to her looks and height but few approach her since she is accompanied by a slightly taller young man with a darker complexion who is dressed just as sharply in his suit. His dreadlocks are tied loosely and gathered to the back of his head and his sculpted features also make others look at him specifically. Though Berna is all smiles and friendly gestures, Antoine's obsidian eyes carefully assess those who come up to her.

Antoine is also good at listening.

As the night wears on while the guests chat amongst themselves and network, making plans for their auction bids, Antoine, Berna's other golem whispers into her ear when they're finally alone at their table.]

"The security. They talk of being extra vigilant."

Hm? [Berna looks at Antoine, blinking.]

Is that anything really to take note of?

"I am uncertain. But I thought it would interest you."

[That makes Berna smile and she affectionately pats his back.]

And this is why I brought you along, Antoine. I can't have all the fun for myself.

[spacecaser]

[The security is extra vigilant for a reason, so vigilant that a man without an invite needs to find a way inside that isn’t the main door. For Thomas Durand, however, this is an old and simple talent of his, and with a bit of distraction and the art of easing himself into a crowd, he doesn’t even have to rely on slipping in through a window or a rooftop skylight. Easy as pie.

That part, at least. The rest will be tricky.

The auction itself hasn’t started yet, but the party is in full swing. Thomas’ power thrums beneath his skin, as it often does, unable as he is to let it go when he needs the clarity, the focus it provides him, critical for a job like this one. It’s a simple smash-and-grab (hopefully less smashing and just more grabbing), but he needs to be on his guard. The Jars, as he’s patronizingly begun to call their little group, have a history with the organization running the auction. Mainly, that they’ve stolen from them before on contract; just doing their usual business, of course, but it’s not like any of them would be ever welcome in their circles again because of it. Maybe one or two people died. It was probably fine.

This time, he’s not here for a contract, per se. But the approach would be the same, regardless.

The main crowd won’t recognize him, though. It’s the security, and those running the show, he needs to stay clear of. He exhales through his nose, straightens the tie of his suit. Right now, he needs to focus on scoping out the situation, though finding a way “backstage” would be ideal for now.

He scans the room. And he finds—

A familiar face. What is she doing here? Contrary to popular belief, Thomas very much remembers their meeting, though he remembers it in the way you recall a distant dream. And here? Here, she might be a distraction, and he needs to remain focused, doesn’t need to draw undue attention.

And yet.

A few moments later, and he approaches her (and her companion, it would seem?) from behind, piping up when he’s close enough.]

...Now here is a familiar sight, no?

[gembonds]

[Antoine smoothly turns around to stare Thomas down. He is about to move in front of Berna until she lights up at the sight of him. She's practically giddy and stands up to walk over to him.]

Why, hello! Has lightning struck twice? How else are we crossing paths again?

[Berna's face is aglow, more than happy to see him again.]

How are you? I trust you're fully awake, yes?

[spacecaser]

[Oh. ...Well. She's happy to see him, and that does spark a small smile out of him; yet there is something very different about Thomas' demeanor today. Subdued, a sharpened gaze in his brown eyes. No bright delight exuding from him in those same bursts of energy the night they met.

This is work mode, after all, and he's nearly sorry for it.]

Hello, dear Jackie. And yes, you will find that I am very unfortunately awake and aware this evening. As needs must.

[He tilts his head, ever so slightly, eyes flicking to Antoine.]

...You have a friend with you, I see.

[gembonds]

[The change does not escape her notice but it does not give her pause either. Morgan's words about Thomas haven't escaped her memory, she's just happy to see him again and delighted at the prospect of more time in his vicinity. It's like she has enough excitement for all three of them!

Speaking of, when he refers to Antoine she gestures for him to come over eagerly. The young man concedes and she starts to introduce him proudly as he bows his head in acknowledgement.]

Antoine, this is a friend. And Thomas, Antoine is one of my finer works of art. I did neglect to mention my other talent of life sculpture.

[Thankfully there isn't many people around them to eavesdrop and even if they did it would sound metaphorical. Sort of.]

He's my plus one of the evening and we've been telling everyone... Ah, what role did we decide on?

[The witch airily lists the parts without a care.]

Distant relative? Student? Lover? Love child?

"We decided that I am your nephew, Miss."

Oh, of course that one.

[Antoine's brows lift showing a hint of humor about his creator's callousness. He's used to it.]

[spacecaser]

[Thomas watches the interaction with both keen interest and... vaguely growing confusion.]

Life sculpture?

[Oh, yes. He can sense it again if he takes the time to focus. Her magic embedded in this "nephew" of hers, pulsating through each limb, informing each action. Her magic is potent, isn't it?

Though he is hardly surprised, given her age. It is plenty of time to accrue power, and to apply that power in specialized ways.]

It is nice to meet you, Antoine. You are... quite a sight to see. [He supposes that doesn't sound too strange to anyone who might hear. Can't exactly say "creation" without sounding even stranger. His eyes flick to Berna again. She seems so glad to see him; it nearly makes his heart twist.

Focus, Thomas.]

You look lovely, Jackie, and while I do consider it a blessing to see you again... I do wonder, why are you here? Business or pleasure?

[gembonds]

[The golem is basically inscribed with magic, over and beneath his skin. For someone like Thomas who can focus on it, it flows like blood through veins, constantly moving, never stopping.

Antoine nods his thanks to Thomas and Berna continues to chatter away. The way joy radiates off of her does make her seem younger than her actual years.]

Thank you, Thomas. You continue to flatter and I continue to float. And well, everything's pleasurable, even business.

A happy customer was sad to see me close up shop— I was selling my art you see, so as one last goodbye before I leave for other horizons, they wanted a donation to their auction.

[She points to the silent auction table where the large ceramic bowl stands, the centerpiece of the display. Guests who pass by linger their noses inhaling the air around them and it's enough to make them write down their bid.]

So because of my contribution, I now have the freedom to drink and be merry. I also believe they wanted me to be here so they could look at me for the rest of the night as well.

[spacecaser]

Ah, yes. I was told of your shop. The brothers dropped by, did they not?

[He can only imagine how that went, outside of what was told to him. The varying degrees of strained pleasantries. Well. He's nearly glad he wasn't there; though a part of him wishes he could have been with them, too, just to say hello.

His eyes flick to her art piece and the attention it brings.]

So pleasure, then.

[Good. Business might have made this more complicated than necessary. Still, he lets a wider smile spread across his face, though it is rueful, and leans in conspiratorally.]

To be honest, who would not want to gawk at you, hm? Other than myself, of course, a positively perfect gentleman.

la vien en or

[infusion]

[After the charity ball fiasco, Jacqueline Berna Oake's activity has gone very silent. This in of itself is not unusual. The Crystalline Witch is known for weaving in and out of public life and back to the privacy of her workshop, the location which she keeps top-secret. Not even her grandchildren are privy to its location. It would be hard to get in touch with her for a long time.

She did leave one last thing for Thomas Durand. In his pocket (most certainly appearing there magically), there is a card and a note written in thin script.]

"One use only — Berna"

[In the corner of the card, is a clear plastic square, and when one looks through it...]

Welcome to the Midnight Grind! I'm so sorry, I might have to close up soon but I'll get you a drink, sir!

[Superficially, Iona and Berna don't look all that similar. Iona is short and curvy, Berna is tall and graceful, swanlike even. Berna tends to look regal and flowerlike while Iona is more like a splash of color.

And it's a little hard to imagine Berna looking a little sweaty-faced and about to jump over the counter with a heavy backpack, but stopping halfway when greeting another person. Iona Jacqueline Oakes, however, does share her grandmother's radiance and smile.]

Oh man, you got me before I could get away! Haha! [Though she seems hurried, she's immediately shoving off her backpack.]

The first drink is free for newcomers! Got a preference?

[And she is very much a ball of out-of-control energy.]

[spacecaser]

[He knows about the cafe, of course. Among the group, only he and Rachel have not seen the door appear for them — and Rachel shows middling interest, besides. Thomas, however, is curious. He wants to meet Berna’s granddaughter, and the reasons are not only personal; if their “business” is to intersect anytime at all in the future, then it’s a professional interest, too.

It seems Berna was one step ahead of him in that regard. One day, he finds a card with a note in his coat pocket, signed by a certain witch. And where does it lead him?

To the Midnight Grind, of course. And within, quite a harried(?) sight to see.]

Ah, I caught you at a bad time, yes?

[Is this her? Iona? The resemblance is faint, except for the smile.

…And the whirlwind energy. Quite the opposite of how Thomas feels today, though his level of exhaustion is a stark improvement compared to yesterday.]

Perhaps I will come back later? You look to be in a rush.

[infusion]

[Iona feels her right arm tingle... (It's full of magic; infused to the rest of her body and paradoxically separate. Bright, rainbow, alien, somehow it mixes with what's already there, the golden aura)

... But she ignores it, patting at a spot at the counter insistently and her hair bounces with each motion.]

No, no, I wanna make you something! I'm sure the professor will keep the office open for another two hours no biggie...

I'd hate for this to be your first time and for you not to drink something. It's been kind of a day and none of our other baristas are in today so it's just me!

[spacecaser]

[Oh, yes. Even worn as he is, his senses are passively keen. He feels that strange magic radiating from her arm, an alien sort, different from the magic she presumably houses innately as a witch. Yes, this must be Iona.

He arches a brow, skeptical, but good-humored as he steps forward.]

Mm, then I will not keep you for long. Black coffee from a French press; quick and simple.

[and he's not requesting that because he's french, tyvm]

Anything longer, and your grandmother would hardly approve of me keeping you from your studies in this way.

[infusion]

Okay! One black coffee coming right up.

[Of course the mention of Grandma gives Iona pause. And of course, Iona is the type of doofus who would make a connection just from the French press mention. Her eyes light up as she opens up a bag of coffee beans and takes out the press.]

Wait a minute... If you know Berna... Thomas right? Thomas Durand?

[She sounds as if she's trying to keep her excitement under wraps... She really tryin'...]

you didn't connect shit

[spacecaser]

[Oh? His name has traveled far and wide, has it? (Not far or wide at all, actually, but definitely along the grapevine somehow. Lyra or Jake, probably.)

Thomas sidles into a high chair near the front counter.]

So famous already. Or is it infamous? I do hope not.

[But he leans back, his casual air partly derived from a tired body, which at least allows some relaxation in his bones.]

But that's right. She left a note in my pocket. And it led me here! I was wondering when I would get the invite, truly. How embarrassing to be the last, but that is no longer a fear of mine.

[Rachel gets to be the rotten egg. Ha.]

I CONNECTED THEM

[infusion]

She did? Wow! Grandma doesn't do that for just anyone... Then again, she can be pretty whimsical. But she definitely likes you enough to give you one of our cards cause I don't think she's done that for anyone else.

[Jake did inflict terrible knowledge on her about Thomas's offer to Grandma and even Iona is not a big enough weirdo to bring that up. She takes a deep (internal) breath and tells herself to keep being a professional. A professional friendly cafe owner, that is! So while she preps his coffee, Iona continues to chat.]

It's nice to finally meet you though! Thank you for taking care of Berna. And I guess you might already know who I am through her... But I'm Iona Jacqueline Oakes and I'm the owner of this cafe.

[Beans are ground up, put into the press and hot water is being prepped.]

I'm not sure if you'll have time to be a repeat customer or if the door can show up for you... But if it does then it means you're definitely welcome to come in again.

[spacecaser]

[Grandma doesn't do that for just anyone. His jaw ticks at that comment, but he plays it off easily enough. It certainly isn't unpleasant knowledge to have garnered, but Berna seems a whimsical sort. He told himself he'd not get his hopes up, and he's going to do his best to stick to that.]

I would like to say we've gotten along well enough in the short time we have made acquaintances. But the note did say "one time only", so that does not guarantee a repeat visit from me, as you say. She does not spoil.

[Still, he offers a grin and leans forward a little.]

So let not this opportunity go to waste. It is a pleasure to meet you, Iona. I am indeed who you say: Thomas Durand. You've met a few of my, ah, colleagues already, as I understand it.