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november catchall
Who: Artemy and Perhaps you? If you'd join me?
What: Understanding a soft heart, experiencing a life after the plague, learning to fill time with meaning.
When: During November!
Where: Amongst Pumpkin Hollow.
Warning(s): Mentions of a consensual romantic murder! also mentions of a plague, of child death, of mourning said children... normal haruspex things!
Grocery Shopping
Artemy does his shopping like a man in a daze. His mind seems to be elsewhere, seemingly thinking of something else, as he goes through the motions. He's tall as his form sticks out amongst the townsfolk, picking out the basics he needs. Dried meat, milk, bread, eggs. He still buys groceries like he lives in the Soviet Union, like things could run out at any moment, yet his basket is bare, making sure to leave enough for everyone else, while still perfectly rationing out everything he needs for the week.
He looks down at his shoes. They are still splattered with blood. He keeps forgetting to go to the cobbler to get a new pair made. These can simply be his work shoes, he reasons.
Or his "murder his colleague" shoes. Consensually murder. For work reasons. Of course.
He avoids thinking of it further, knowing that he might start to blush if he does. He curses himself, and wonders if he truly does have poor rational thought, as Dankovsky so eloquently put it. Artemy wonders if he truly has nothing better to think of than their conversation as he irritatedly grabs some fish to fry up this evening.
Falls Promise Cemetery
All of Artemy's work is done. Artemy's work work is done. He's considering buying about five more alembics to brew tinctures upon tinctures just to keep himself busy. He's finally gotten himself his new boots and he decides to finally go on a walk, and what better place to walk than a cemetery? There could be worse places, certainly.
He walks amongst the gravestones. He thinks of home. Of little Grace who tended the cemetery who offered to help him speak to his father, who he turned down in fear for her constitution. He thinks of Murky and Sticky and wonders if they're alright. He wonders if time in the Town-on-Gorkhon and Pumpkin Hollow run one for one or if things are off set. If he gets to go back someday, and that is a big if, he wonders if things will be as he left it, or if everyone will be dead of the plague, including his adopted children. Such things are enough to keep a man up at night, guilt ridden, particularly a man that takes all things as his single and sole responsibility.
Perhaps a walk in the middle of autumn in the middle of a cemetery was not such a great idea after all! He sighs to himself, wondering how other people fill so much free time.
Closed to Anya
Artemy will knock on Anya's door and leave a package wrapped in twine and brown wrapping paper, walking away before she answers. If she opens it she will find a lab coat carefully folded inside. It is made of thick material with her name carefully hand embroidered in beautiful blue thread on the lapel. In the breast pocket is a small card addressed to her as well. It reads.
If she chases after him, she might be able to catch up to him.
Wildcard
(Feel free to reach out on discord to plot something else!)
What: Understanding a soft heart, experiencing a life after the plague, learning to fill time with meaning.
When: During November!
Where: Amongst Pumpkin Hollow.
Warning(s): Mentions of a consensual romantic murder! also mentions of a plague, of child death, of mourning said children... normal haruspex things!
Grocery Shopping
Artemy does his shopping like a man in a daze. His mind seems to be elsewhere, seemingly thinking of something else, as he goes through the motions. He's tall as his form sticks out amongst the townsfolk, picking out the basics he needs. Dried meat, milk, bread, eggs. He still buys groceries like he lives in the Soviet Union, like things could run out at any moment, yet his basket is bare, making sure to leave enough for everyone else, while still perfectly rationing out everything he needs for the week.
He looks down at his shoes. They are still splattered with blood. He keeps forgetting to go to the cobbler to get a new pair made. These can simply be his work shoes, he reasons.
Or his "murder his colleague" shoes. Consensually murder. For work reasons. Of course.
He avoids thinking of it further, knowing that he might start to blush if he does. He curses himself, and wonders if he truly does have poor rational thought, as Dankovsky so eloquently put it. Artemy wonders if he truly has nothing better to think of than their conversation as he irritatedly grabs some fish to fry up this evening.
Falls Promise Cemetery
All of Artemy's work is done. Artemy's work work is done. He's considering buying about five more alembics to brew tinctures upon tinctures just to keep himself busy. He's finally gotten himself his new boots and he decides to finally go on a walk, and what better place to walk than a cemetery? There could be worse places, certainly.
He walks amongst the gravestones. He thinks of home. Of little Grace who tended the cemetery who offered to help him speak to his father, who he turned down in fear for her constitution. He thinks of Murky and Sticky and wonders if they're alright. He wonders if time in the Town-on-Gorkhon and Pumpkin Hollow run one for one or if things are off set. If he gets to go back someday, and that is a big if, he wonders if things will be as he left it, or if everyone will be dead of the plague, including his adopted children. Such things are enough to keep a man up at night, guilt ridden, particularly a man that takes all things as his single and sole responsibility.
Perhaps a walk in the middle of autumn in the middle of a cemetery was not such a great idea after all! He sighs to himself, wondering how other people fill so much free time.
Closed to Anya
Artemy will knock on Anya's door and leave a package wrapped in twine and brown wrapping paper, walking away before she answers. If she opens it she will find a lab coat carefully folded inside. It is made of thick material with her name carefully hand embroidered in beautiful blue thread on the lapel. In the breast pocket is a small card addressed to her as well. It reads.
Dear Miss Anya,
You have my apologies for the other day. I am aware that I owe you a coffee as well. Please accept a gift, something I believe that suits you, for all of your accomplishments up to this point, and for all your hard work up to this point both in this life and in your last.
- Artemy Burakh
If she chases after him, she might be able to catch up to him.
Wildcard
(Feel free to reach out on discord to plot something else!)
no subject
It hasn't yet gotten old, getting to tell people this.
no subject
Artemy's rather accepting of it. Doesn't seem distressed by the idea at all, honestly.
no subject
She's not too troubled, though - him taking it so easy means he'll be fine in that respect.
"It's not just religious matters that have me aiming you at the Temple, though. I'm biased, since I have friends who work there. Ones who I know will help newcomers if they can."
no subject
He says all of this so casually and matter of fact, like it's the most normal thing in the world. Oh Artemy...
no subject
She shrugs her shoulders.
"Even in the Temple, there are shrines and symbols of worship for those we brought with us. The goddesses are not the jealous sort."
no subject
"That's refreshing to hear." He says, "Truth be told, if things were to go according to plan back home, I was to be a spiritual leader of sorts. Now, however..."
He's not too sure, that much is obvious as his voice trails off.
no subject
"At present, you needn't be anything other than Artemy Burakh. This place has a way of being patient with you."
no subject
"Fair enough." He leaves it simple, but even in its simplicity, it's obvious that Artemy doesn't believe her.
He has his own hangups about the topic, it seems.