finalflight | THE JARS THAT BLEED BEFORE THEY BREAK.

Entry tags:

THE JARS THAT BLEED BEFORE THEY BREAK.

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Yeah, Iona, he's not going to take your money. But he doesn't have to mention that now.]

What is she, specifically, then? A spirit? Something else? Does she communicate with you -- tell you why she is flitting from artwork to artwork, making life hell for students here?

I thiiink the one time I told her to come with me or else I'm shaking her out of the acrylic abstract made her kind of shut up on me.

[Iona........]

Too aggressive you think?

Edited 2023-04-20 20:02 (UTC)

[ ... ]

Eh. [Shrugs.] Persuasion is an art. Sometimes... aggressive persuasion is just as effective as a silver tongue.

However, I only ask because I may have the ability to calm her, but I am not sure if it works on a ghost, per se.

Edited 2023-04-20 20:03 (UTC)

[s-she's related to Berna honest......]

Really? Maybe this isn't a ghost of sorts so we might as well try what we've got in our arsenal.

I'm trusting in your abilities as a professional thief so I'm down for anything! I'll follow your lead if you have better ideas! Minus murder. I don't think we have anyone to do that to for this job so we're in the clear!

[And she even gives him a thumbs up, the most cheerful way ever.]

[He barks a laugh.]

Murder? For a painting in a university art gallery? Imagine how tits-up this would have to go for that to happen.

[Pardon his language.]

Show me the gallery first, if you can.

Maybe someone will get injured but that's all we're hoping for IF things go tits up.

[Oren isn't here to police anyone's language!!

Iona ushers Thomas into the student gallery further near the end. The work although amateur is still impressive; at least this university houses raw talent. As they go past self-portraits, abstracts, still lifes, and photographs, Iona points to the back at a mid-size square canvas that depicts a historical 1950s scene of mobsters in a casino, gambling, and having gorgeous women hanging onto their arms. Seems normal, busy but colorful and...

The witch points to a curly-haired blonde whose baby-blue-eyed gaze is just slight enough to seem like it's looking at the viewer but distant enough to simply be paint on a canvas.]

And that's her. Depending on where she jumps, her hairstyle changes, but not her hair color or eye color. Other than myself, if other people stare too long, they get... Uh.

[Iona gestures at her head making several loops with her index finger.]

Unfortunately, as art students, most people are assuming they're huffing turpentine.

[He spares some of the artwork a glance or two as they tread through the gallery, but none of it truly earns his attention. It isn't what they're here for; and there certainly isn't the sense of something imbued in it, not like the painting she leads him to. Thomas jams his hands in his pockets, leaning forward to get a better look.]

So that is her? Yes, I can see something a little... off about her.

[Unearths a hand and waggles it in front of the painting, then snaps his fingers, uncaring of who's watching. He's testing the waters.]

Hello, Mademoiselle? Are you to get in my head, too?

[For several seconds there's no reaction. But there must be something about Thomas because the blue eyes move to look at him specifically. There's definitely a pull in the form of a whisper, enticing the viewer into its dream within the painting.

(Laughter, cigarette smoke, the clattering of dice on the table, haphazard music, a confused mixture of beatnik and jazz music, perfume, elements of the painting, but an incomplete scene, imperfect, except her, she's beautiful and beckoning—)

Next to him, the witch goes, "Tch!" under her breath when she sees the eyes move. Iona's watching Thomas carefully to see if he'll be affected.]

[Yes, those eyes move, he sees it. And then the whispering begins, the pull of something that feels like someone trying to drag him into a languid dream-

But when it comes to mental manipulation, to dreams especially, Thomas has more resistance than most. It is dizzying for a moment, but it simply reminds him a lesser version of what Lyra can do. He is not thrown off by it due to this alone.

He straightens, blinking away the images.]

Aha. She tries to play my own tricks against me. Disorienting, but it will not work.

[Iona bounces on her feet and claps her hands together relieved and admiring Thomas all at once.]

Awesome! I'm so glad you're helping out!

[She's excited at the prospect of this whole venture working out for once. Maybe not without a hitch or two, but it's gonna work.

Speaking of.]

Ah. She moved.

[It's true- the painted lady has retreated and in her place is a brunette instead.]

See, she's kind of a sore loser whenever her weirdo spider vibes don't work. [Iona's wiggling her fingers in front of her face to emphasize this. Animated girl, this one.]

So now she'll find another painting, blend in and try on another person.

[One can only hope it works out. It seems simple enough; and surely this cannot end any worse than a giant tree sprouting and taking root in the middle of a room, blasting itself up through the ceiling--

Thomas notices how the painting's changed, then looks over his shoulder at the rest of the gallery.]

She won't be able to get away. I can sense her; it will take little more than a trawl through the gallery again to find her.

[He looks at Iona again.]

Still, there is no point in trying to subdue her now. We will have to wait until this gallery locks up, when there is no one around. And then we might solve the issue of the "weirdo spider vibes" lady in a more permanent manner.

What time do the doors lock?

[Iona checks her phone and the department's website to reference the hours.]

Looks like they close early today. 8:30 PM they close up to clean up and turn off the lights. I think that means 9 PM is when we have fewer people around. Campus security is around but they'll mostly be escorting students to their rides.

[wow crimes are so exciting... No, Iona reminds herself that this thievery is necessary, not for the thrills!]

The locks aren't anything special but they're tight! Not that I couldn't open them but...

[Iona has a distant look in her eyes, kind of shameful, but also shameless.]

The school would have to purchase new locks if I busted them open.

[Not to mention the alarms. Good lord, no wonder this girl needs help, her finesse is very low.]

[Her excitement is cute. Reminds him of himself in his teenage years, a very, very long time ago.

He clicks his tongue, looking at her with amusement.]

Ah, Miss Iona. You are making it far more complicated than need be. You see, this is but a university. There are not even cameras in every corner of the gallery for a thief like me--no, thieves like us--to worry about. And thus, the school's locks will be saved from your wrath.

Non, we needn't even leave. The trick is to stay in the building, unseen, while they lock up. Then, when we are alone, we simply unearth ourselves from our hiding spots.

Tell me, how do you feel about... vents?

[You said the magic word Thomas.

Well, no, not exactly but it's more than enough for Iona to become starry-eyed and energetic.]

Oh my god.

You're not serious, are you? We're gonna be sneaky!?

[You know, if Iona's gonna get any better at this, might as well learn from someone with experience.]

[He's grinning fully now. It's almost as though the tiredness in the corner of his eyes doesn't even exist.]

We are going to be very sneaky.

...In either the women or men's restrooms.

[Sorry, that's the easiest place to access a vent in a building, usually.]

[Okay, deflated somewhat... But no, that doesn't deter her at all really.]

How about I meet you halfway? I do have the blueprints of the school. Oh and I might not be the best with spellcraft, but I can Envision the vents to be big enough to crawl in comfortably.

And that way we don't have to follow each other into one bathroom. Much more conspicuous even if no one is around to see.

[Well, he was just going to suggest sneaking in when no one was looking, but that works too.]

Magic makes things so much more convenient, doesn't it? Very well. We do it that way. And then we wait. Quietly.

[Iona gives Thomas finger guns and grins.]

I'll be quiet as a mouse. You won't even know I'm there!

[Though when they go into the vents, the echoes of the Mission Impossible theme might be heard very, very, very faintly...]

[Faint enough that it doesn't matter. Is this her first real baby heist? Then let her have her fun.

She'll soon learn, however, that when it comes to most stints of theft? 80 percent of the game is waiting, waiting, waiting. Thomas is used to it, at least, and he spends the time waiting for 9 pm and some change to roll around... Mostly just lying there, on his back, eyes closed and waiting for time to pass. Snug in a vent that he shares with a witch.

Very exciting, huh, Iona?]

[Then it's good that Iona knows how to distract herself during the wait. There are games on her phone, looking over possible menu items to add to the Midnight Grind... She's even doing some yoga stretches!

This girl's got way too much energy.

She's lying on her back with her legs resting straight against the wall at a nearly 90-degree angle. Iona glances at Thomas and although she had been active during their vent-wait, she hadn't been bothering him specifically. But she had to wonder...]

Mr. Durand? Are you tired?

[Thomas laughs lightly. He doesn't even bother to open his eyes as he replies in a low tone.]

Miss Iona, I would say that I am tired... at least seventy percent of the time. Though I am recovering now.

Oh.

[That seems to stir up some concern in the young woman and she swerves her legs off of the wall and sits cross-legged instead.]

Are you sure you're okay then? I mean... Does it have to do with your powers?

[Thomas cracks open one eye to turn his head and look at her.]

Oh, right now, I am fine. Yesterday, I was a mess.

[He says this with such ease; it's been the reality for so long, it's a bit like talking about the weather.]

I carry a plentiful amount of energy within me, you see. And it grows, and grows, and feel far too overwhelming for this small, human body. So I must let it burn off. All the way. [And it feels good to let it burn.] And after that? I am so, so tired.

[Iona doesn't say anything for a second. She just examines him with her brown eyes, like and unlike her grandmother's. Her pair didn't have any mystical layers hidden beneath like Berna's. She had said it herself back at the charity ball; "unblemished and hopelessly optimistic and loving."

The words she offers are simple and direct.]

That must really suck. And I hope this job isn't like, irritating or anything.

[Cause just now, she wonders if Thomas is doing this just to humor her. Like in the short time they've known each other... Wow it was short. But he was easy to talk to. Charming in that way unnaturally older people were... She kind of sees why Berna would take a liking to him, criminal ties aside.]

[He looks at her for a moment longer, considering. He doesn't mind her direct nature, for it's better than playing a game of pretty words and unspoken intentions like he feels like he sometimes gets tangled up within his group.]

Irritating? Oh, no, no. In fact, it is... nice. To do something simple, something that might keep me active, but not too strenuous, you see.

[Here, he eases himself up into a sit, one elbow pressing into his knee.]

A nice in-between. Between being too tired, and being too... lucid.

[Head too full of thoughts, muddied up by a lifetime that is too long to stuff into a single human body.]

Do not worry about me. And do not fret for yourself, either. This is not an inconvenience.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject