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abraxaslogs2021-06-13 02:54 am
the_archive) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-06-13 02:54 am
Open Log
Who: Jon Sims and YOU
Where: A few places in Thorne Castle
When: Before the Festival
What: Getting Acquaint (Let me know if you want to continue a TDM thread, and we can link it here and go on)
Warnings: N/A, will probably add.
Room 7
The first day, Jon just can't let himself just stop moving. He's already done everything he can to try to get the apprentices to give him more information, and they just keep assuring him that he'll know everything he needs to when he needs to. Which he interprets as; when they want him to. But they've also promised his powers will return, whether he wants them to or not, so there's that.
A bunk in a shared dorm doesn't shout 'honored guest' to him. He spends a few minutes stripping his bed, checking it minutely, and then making it again, using the activity of his hands to try to still his thoughts a little. To try not to worry about Martin. And the statement he can only hope he left entirely behind. When he's done that, he takes a moment, leaning on the bedpost to stare out the window beside it.
It's unsettlingly soothing, how little he can see from here.
Upstairs
Jon would have found the library even without it having been on that first rapid tour. He doesn't even intend to find himself there until he's there, looking down the rows of shelves. He prides himself on his research skills, but here he doesn't bother to look for something specific. Instead, he walks down one aisle at random, then another, keeping his hands folded behind his back until the distant, nagging feeling in the back of the head selects one volume, then another, then another.
He does check the flyleafs carefully, however.
In the study hall, he steers wide of those trying to learn to summon flames – Jon's not having anything to do with that, and the observant can guess why – one hand is already so scarred by burns that it doesn't move fluidly. And maybe that's why he's pulled to the young mage demonstrating a spell that heals small wounds.
Downstairs
He follows the dark stairs and rumors down with some anxiety, but it's no Panopticon down here. Only too-cramped cells, and conditions that would seem unrealistic in a movie. He eyes the guards, but doesn't like what he sees, and so keeps his distance as he moves along the cells. He's looking for someone in particular, but he won't find him. Instead, when the guards are out of earshot, he pauses.
“Do you know if there are more prisoners? Anywhere else?”
Where: A few places in Thorne Castle
When: Before the Festival
What: Getting Acquaint (Let me know if you want to continue a TDM thread, and we can link it here and go on)
Warnings: N/A, will probably add.
Room 7
The first day, Jon just can't let himself just stop moving. He's already done everything he can to try to get the apprentices to give him more information, and they just keep assuring him that he'll know everything he needs to when he needs to. Which he interprets as; when they want him to. But they've also promised his powers will return, whether he wants them to or not, so there's that.
A bunk in a shared dorm doesn't shout 'honored guest' to him. He spends a few minutes stripping his bed, checking it minutely, and then making it again, using the activity of his hands to try to still his thoughts a little. To try not to worry about Martin. And the statement he can only hope he left entirely behind. When he's done that, he takes a moment, leaning on the bedpost to stare out the window beside it.
It's unsettlingly soothing, how little he can see from here.
Upstairs
Jon would have found the library even without it having been on that first rapid tour. He doesn't even intend to find himself there until he's there, looking down the rows of shelves. He prides himself on his research skills, but here he doesn't bother to look for something specific. Instead, he walks down one aisle at random, then another, keeping his hands folded behind his back until the distant, nagging feeling in the back of the head selects one volume, then another, then another.
He does check the flyleafs carefully, however.
In the study hall, he steers wide of those trying to learn to summon flames – Jon's not having anything to do with that, and the observant can guess why – one hand is already so scarred by burns that it doesn't move fluidly. And maybe that's why he's pulled to the young mage demonstrating a spell that heals small wounds.
Downstairs
He follows the dark stairs and rumors down with some anxiety, but it's no Panopticon down here. Only too-cramped cells, and conditions that would seem unrealistic in a movie. He eyes the guards, but doesn't like what he sees, and so keeps his distance as he moves along the cells. He's looking for someone in particular, but he won't find him. Instead, when the guards are out of earshot, he pauses.
“Do you know if there are more prisoners? Anywhere else?”
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"At work. I manage a cabaret. I'd give you my card but," he held out his empty hands, palms up, and shrugged, "they didn't make it here as you can imagine."
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"You arrive here with that?" he asks, with a little gesture to the bruise he can see around the edge of that eyepatch.
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Was he purposefully ignoring the possibility that the man was probably not referring directly to the eyepatch itself? Oh, yes he was. But it was a much better conversation topic than the bruises surrounding it or the story of the missing eye itself.
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"Anything else you need, currently?"
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"If you want to repay me for some blankets, just keep an ear out for Martin? Anyone by that name."
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Through the bar, he offers his hand. There's a guard down the corridor now, but he doesn't care if he sees it. It's his right, the badly scarred one, but they aren't fresh. And they wrap around Jon's hand in exactly the pattern Majima's hand will, if he shakes.
"A pleasure, circumstances notwithstanding."
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Majima hesitated for a long enough moment over the handshake for it to possibly be realized that it wasn't a common factor in his culture. Or perhaps he was wary while locked inside this cage. Either way eventually he did take the hand in a firm grip of his own and give it a shake. He did not linger on the touch.
"I'll keep my eye out. And thanks for helping us out down here."