ph_logs | [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

"..."

Jean stands suddenly. "COMRADE WE'RE MORONS - NEIL!"

Jon blinks, processes the idea, presses a hand to his face, and lets out a jokingly exasperated sigh.

"Neil. God. He's literally right there."

A beat.

"You have to be the one to ask, though. Same problem as before."

"That I can do! I'm not certain if Neil likes me at all but I'm comfortable characterizing our professional relationship as healthy. We seem content to collaborate without...entwining personally." That gets a thoughtful frown. "...I do hope that's not offensive to you, it sounds strange now that I said it out loud."

"No offense taken," Jon lifts his hands, a brief, defensive-yet-casual gesture. "He's got plenty of colleagues of varying levels of closeness. He's got a great deal of pots on the stove, so I hope it's not offensive to you if he hasn't put much time into remedying that. Though there's nothing wrong with a professional relationship staying as-is."

"I'm not sure how to understand our distance," Jean admits, a little uncomfortably. "I...often feel like the odd one out, in the Ocularum. The others have an erudition that I lack, you included."

"What?" Jon huffs a laugh, looking genuinely a bit shocked by the notion. "I hardly see that. I mean... you've furthered the town's understanding of the demon situation by great lengths. I've sometimes felt like you're the one among all of us getting the most done, really. If you're the odd one out, the rest of the lot of us should probably be looking your way to adjust."

"...What??"

"Do you need me to repeat it fully, or...?"

"I want you to explain your logic to me as if I grew up without any more education than was needed to compare the price of stolen organs to my rent."

"Well, I mean, no one else has literally breached the Infernal realm, for a start. Your findings have permanently shaped the town's defenses against the demons, less people suffer each time something happens, you're constantly doing lengths of community outreach I couldn't imagine doing, myself, and---" Pause. "...Wait, how comparable are those prices?"

"If you get a clean throat cut and have a big enough freezer you only had to kill three people a month in my old neighborhood." Jean sighs. "So realistically, seven. But..."

...Is there a but? Jean's not sure. They slowly sit back down, looking at their coffee with such a look of intense concentration that if they were telekinetic it would be obvious right about now.

Hm. That's a horrible concept that fits neatly into everything else Jon knows about the City. He decides to push past that, after giving Jean a moment with their thoughts.

"Something eating at you?"

"Do we ever really know everything that preys on us? I'm lucky that most of mine have names." Jean frowns; that sounded more flippant and confident in their head. "...But I think there's a...a dissonance between what you're saying and the methodologies that Doctor West founded his organization on. Regardless of any moral value placed on my skill set, I am, at best, a research assistant and an extremely skilled and active killer. There's a gap there, right?"

For those keeping score at home Jean just said those words with that vocabulary and didn't even blink while accusing themself of being uneducated and lacking in intelligence.

The irony of their word-choices, ever-educated and well-thought-out, saying what they are, isn't lost on Jon. He isn't certain calling that out will help.

Instead, he seems to weigh his options, and sits his coffee cup aside.

"I think that's exactly the ideology he founded the Ocularum upon, Jean. Truth and understanding, at any and all costs. I don't think he'd give credit to your work if it wasn't due, and he does mention it. But, that being said, with our trip as an example to start with... you figured out the methods to breach the barrier. Something that was loudly claimed to be certain death to anyone else trying it. And in doing so, we learned that our enemies aren't out of reach, and they bleed. That's one thing, but I could think of a dozen more, if you gave me the time. I think you're not giving yourself the weight of accomplishments that you deserve."

"...I should think about this. Maybe bring my concerns up with him when I go and see Neil." They still look uncomfortable, but it's a more thoughtful discomfort, now. "Do let me know if you feel the need for another Statement in the near future, comrade. My nightmares can't get any worse. I know, people have tried. There's an upper limit." They sigh, and then down their coffee. "And...thank you, for the conversation."

"You know, a friend of mine may be able to lend a hand with that. I'll pass along some information, see what we can't manage. But... I appreciate it. I really do. I just hope I'm able to help you to match even a degree that you've helped me."

Jon stands, and grabs his coffee cup. He crosses their chair on his way out, and stops. A moment of consideration passes, before he gives them a small pat to the shoulder; it's awkward, and tentative, but incredibly genuine.

"If you need me, you know where to find me, comrade."

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

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So much of this section of the thread is one-liners but it be like that sometimes

one-liners are a tasty little treat for a thread they love it

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Wrap?

Wrap!