ph_logs | [OPEN] While we're on the subject, could we change the subject now?

[OPEN] While we're on the subject, could we change the subject now?

Who: Jonathan Sims and YOU!
What: Open prompts for the end of summer!
When: August
Where: Around Marrow Isle
Warning(s): Cursed objects, potential descriptions of gore (More warnings pending)

1. Looking towards the future, we were begging for the past

With a sound of effort, Jon drops the last of the tools he'd been carrying too many of, letting out a winded wheeze as he tries to collect himself.

It's been quite an undertaking, collecting ins and odds from Calloway's Curios before they fell into hands, not knowing what they are or what they're capable of doing. He's not certain of the particular qualities of a few of these things, but he's seen enough things and read about even more to know when something is simply here to cause problems.

Sprucing up the unused shed behind his cliff-side home is proving to be even more of an undertaking, considering he isn't especially gifted at carpentry, but sometimes you've just got to make due.

He's so engrossed in his work that he doesn't notice the presence of anyone outside of Grimmly the Dusknoir, the large Pokemon lingering, watching with what can only be described as single-eyed skepticism. The red eye follows Jon as he moves to collect the scattered metal rods of the lock-system he'd purchased, once again trying to carry all too many things at once.

To say the least, he's far too distracted to notice anybody coming up the short path to his home - especially as, with his heavy carry load, he staggers, stumbles, and topples back, dropping the rods in a spectacularly-noisy explosion of parts around his person.

Grimmly bellows with strange, wavering, ghostly laughter, the mouth on his stomach throwing his upper half backwards, with no regard for the daggers Jon glares his way.

"Oh, laugh it up, you shit, very funny. You could be helping with this, you know, you've got two perfectly good hands!"

2. Well, we knew we had the good things

Amid all the bustle he's been dealing with recently, Jon manages to find time to write and hang a flyer on the bulletin board.

Seeking assistance from the technically inclined for a repair project.

I am in possession of three tape recorders, and need someone who could potentially lend me a hand with fixing the wiring within the machines, as well as potentially making their power sources able to plug into a wall outlet. The tapes are in pristine condition, and I will only need assistance with at least one recorder, though all three being repaired would be preferred. Offering a reward of 200B for assistance.

If interested, please contact me via sending stone or telephone. Thank you.

-Jonathan Sims

With a reward like that, it's clear he's pretty serious about getting these fixed. He'll answer just about any call about them - be it someone who's ready to help him fix these, someone with questions about them, or friends with concerns about the devices. (It may be easier said than done convincing him not to fix them, if one even could, though.)

3. But those never seemed to last (Closed to Neil and Martin)

After meeting Martin on the beach, Jon was in more of a hurry than he'd care to admit to get to Neil and confirm dinner plans. Everything's smoothly in motion, and as ridiculous as it feels, Jon's more excited about this than he can rightly recall having been in a fair bit.

He's never been an incredible chef, but he's gotten a handle on home cooking since arriving in town, and throws together a plan quickly enough to have everything just about ready. It only takes a short trip out to the markets to have the supplies for everything: lemon chicken (the citrus specifically chosen for the occasion), mashed potatoes, and supplies for a light salad, hopefully making for something of an exceptional welcome-to-town dinner.

The sun is only just dipping towards the horizon when he's wrapping up, and judging by a quick glance to the clock on the wall when a knock at the door rings through the house, Martin's at his most punctual that Jon's ever seen him. Maybe he's as excited about this as Jon is? (He surely hopes so.)

Leaning as close to the kitchen's doorframe as he can while not straying too far, keen to finish wrapping things up as quickly as possible, Jon doesn't hesitate to call out towards the front of the house.

"Come in!"

4. Oh, please just last (Wildcard)
Want this guy somewhere, sometime? Shoot me a PM here or on Discord to plot, or just go wild and drop something!

[EDITED EXTRA PROMPT]

5. Beneath the Watcher's Eye

The more time passes, the more Jon feels his resolve beginning to slip.

At first, it's simply accidental, compelling people for statements when they're not looking to share. It sustains him, he feels terrible about it, and there's another sore spot to try to navigate around on this cursed island. The more time that passes, however, the few statements that are offered by the call of his bulletin-board posts simply don't provide like they used to. More often, the fatigue hangs heavy on his bones, even without the work to wear him down. Thinking grows difficult, and simple ordeals feel as though they've gained ten new steps overnight.

He tries to fight it off; he really, truly does. The itch sinks deeper into his bones with each passing day, though - no amount of reading old statements or reading books on things that had happened in town scratch it.

There comes a point with all itches that you've simply got no choice but to scratch it.

He adds his flyer to the bulletin board once more, crisp and neat. Sending stone calls are acceptable, events that have happened within Pumpkin Hollow are valid pieces of information to offer, and anything of any magnitude will be heard. The net is as wide as he can possibly cast it.

Waiting for the net to fill is an impossible task, however. Despite himself, he begins to hunt.

His search doesn't have the physicality or brute force of a Hunter seeking prey - but in energy and approach, they're shockingly alike. He's patient, calculated, and mindful. He stays out late during the nights of shore leave from the Mipha's Grace,, finding new haunts to insert himself into. Restaurants, taverns, bustling public events, and coffee shops are his most frequent targets; if he finds the perfect candidate outside of one of those spaces wearing marks that are heavy enough, though, he won't be picky.

Once he finds scars adequate enough, he sinks into action. The approach is simple and polite: if there's too many people around, he'll ask to step aside. If it's a quiet space, he'll move to stand near, to sit across from, to linger by whoever he's got his eyes on.

And then, he'll speak. The supernaturally inclined feel static begin to build in their ears, and even those who aren't get a sensation of their own, unnatural and tingly, something akin a sleeping limb beginning to wake up.

"You have seen something great and terrible, something beyond comprehension. Tell me your story."

[Extra notes: this is my general prompt for Jon taking statements! You can play this any way you want to. If you want their CR to stay positive, your character can show up at his house and deliver their statement normally, talk afterwards, whole nine yards. For anyone who'd prefer negative CR, though, or want to have Jon take a statement but have characters who would keep that to themselves, put him wherever your character might be and have him compel it out of them!

Additionally, closed to close CR: characters are welcome to bust him compelling statements out of someone! He is doing it fully intentionally this time, and while he'll generally see himself out while emotions run high from the person he took it from, he can be caught by someone who knows what's happening. He won't target people he's friends or generally friendly with intentionally, but it can happen accidentally. Hit me with anything! \o/ ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Mm?"

Jon, still processing the information as a tape would rewind, glances over. He wasn't expecting anyone to join him - typically, people around him and whoever he's spoken to always seem to assume bad news has been shared, and steer clear. He only loosely recognizes the new face; someone he's seen around town, but never spoken to directly.

Regardless of familiarity, though, she's seen right through him. That sits poorly, and his expression, previously having been blank, shifts to something more uncomfortable, a tight-lipped frown pulling at his lips for a moment. Those who Watch never care to be seen, themselves, and he's no exception.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really? Daisy and Gerry both told me about you, so whatever little excuse you are trying to come up with can be put aside for the next person."

She had originally thought to avoid Jon, he seemed more dangerous than Gerry from what Daisy had told her, but all she had to go off of was exactly that. Daisy's opinion. Hopefully Jon would have enough sense to not try it on her immediately, she's not here to cause issues.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to snitch on you."

Well, that has him lowering his hackles a little bit, at least. His defensive, tense posture relaxes, slowly but surely. So fresh out of a statement, he's not keen to try anything, not yet - especially with someone who seems to have an idea of what he's doing.

"...Alright," He finally relents. "No excuses, then, and the discretion is... appreciated. Have you come here looking for something from me, then? Or just--- discussing tools of the trade?"

Granted that she knows Gerry and Daisy, and there's something about her that he hasn't quite placed his finger on yet, it wouldn't shock him, even if he says as much with a healthy dose of dry sarcasm.

She watches, and feels, him relax. Good, it means he will actually hear her out, or so she hopes.

"Not quite tools of the trade, and not quite looking for something from you...though maybe a little bit of both."

If he's like Gerry and Daisy, then she's sure he senses something off about her, but he seems to not know what.

A spot-on assumption, Valdis - he's picked up on something, but he can't place it. There's notes of what makes up her power that are familiar, but unlike anything he's ever come into contact with. (He certainly hopes it isn't Extinction. God, he didn't want to see what that would truly wind up being like.)

"Very well, then," He agrees, and while he's still uncertain, he folds his arms against the table once more, settling slowly but surely. "Cryptic as anything, but I'm sure I can trust that you've got a good explanation for me."

Even if his tone is very dry, he's half-joking. He's just notoriously a bit flat about it.

Luckily, this particular Fear connection is not the same as in Jon's world, so perhaps less destructive and harmful in theory.

"To lay our cards on the table, and as a show of good faith, Daisy has informed me that I am what you all would call an Avatar of the End. This is of course, very useful in a fight, but less so when trying to learn things from people that may not wish to say them. I'm not into torture, but I am quite invested in learning things that others think are best unsaid. I think your ability would prove useful in that regard."

Jon's brows raise at that, and it's clear that she's got his interest hooked this time. It's almost amazing, how a simple crumb of familiar information is all it takes to draw him in.

"Avatar of the End? Well, that certainly explains some things," He muses, skepticism fading slowly in favor of curiosity. "And I think the lack of torture is for the best, really. No one ever truly says what you want them to under that sort of duress - just whatever they think you'll want to hear to make it stop. ...But, depending on the situation, I suppose that that's something I could help with."

His admitting to that pulls back his interest, the reluctance resurfacing. It's clearly not a tool that he cares to offer around particularly freely.

"It really depends on what you're looking to hear, from who, and for what reason. I'm certain you're well aware this isn't something I should go around doing recklessly for any one situation or another."

She can tell she now has his full attention, and it's not fear she senses, but curiosity, perhaps even a little bit of something similar to excitement maybe, or...well, it's a difficult feeling to describe, but she knows he's interested.

But then it suddenly dies, as if he knows he shouldn't want to use his power against people.

"Dahlia Leeds has a secret," she says quietly. "I want to know exactly what it is."

Oh. Oh. All that intrigue washes back in, with a bit of bitterness in tow.

"Oh, secrets in spades," He replies, lowering his voice, just as quietly. This is a lesson he's learned all-too-well from watching Neil's treatment over the year; his suspicions are only for those of a similar inclination. "But, to pin down anything concrete, there has to be absolute certainty. Anything less, and she'll tear you to pieces in any way she can possibly find. Though I'm sure you're well aware of that."

"I plan to find out with absolute certainty. No offense to Neil, but he's not exactly well versed in the same political games I am, and we really shouldn't expect him to be."

It's probably better that he isn't.

"You ability could prove useful in drawing out information from those around her, if not Dahlia herself."

"It'd be quite a risk," Jon mutters, rubbing his face. Even despite his reluctance, he doesn't look disinterested, per se, but hesitant. "I'm certain you understand that, what with my social ties, I'm not exactly... well-liked by the town. Doing as much to Dahlia specifically would practically be like detonating a bomb on whatever life I've built here. You're well-aware of how that worked out for Neil, I'm sure."

"A woman was murdered by a cult that Dahlia's family may have ties to. Aren't you curious about that?"

Jon frowns, thoughtful, drumming his fingers against the table.

"...I'd heard a bit about that, in one of the last few meetings," He mutters, clearly deeply troubled by the notion. "And I am curious, of course. I don't know how anyone couldn't be. Especially with the potential ramifications such a thing had on the island as a whole. But..."

He trails off that defense; she's clearly managing to whittle down his wariness in appealing to the side of him that is so, so very desperate to know.

Valdis can sense she has Jon on the hook and believes now is the moment to take a step back and let him feel as if anything else is his decision.

"Take time to think about it, I know the risk you would incur if Dahlia retaliated, but I know her family, at the very least, is connected to the barrier somehow. I want to know how."

"...You've got a point, and if that's the case--- it'd be worth knowing how, should it be connected in any way to lifting the barrier."

He eyes her uncertainly, even still, but he couldn't even hide those gears turning in his head if he wanted to.

"I'll call you, should I decide one way or another. You're... Valdis, correct?"

Of course she has a point, but she's not going to express that out loud. She has him on the hook and she plans to keep him there.

"Yes, I am, and I look forward to hearing from you."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[OPEN] While we're on the subject, could we change the subject now?

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