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Swansong

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About Swansong

  • Rank
    Villager

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Female
  • Location
    Sleepytime Junction
  • Interests
    Singing, art, video games, design, voice acting
  1. "I'm sure I'll manage." is all she says in response, leveling him with a charming grin. "Sleep tight Doc! Don't let the bed bugs bite...or anything else for that matter!" As the near stranger leaves, the doors swishing shut with heavy finality, her wide grin slowly slips off her face and morphs into a dark frown. Her dark eyes shine with with a grave understanding as she lightly trails a gloved finger over the metal tracking device while she scans the area. This is a disaster. This place is teaming with the strange almost eldritch-like energy that she had the unfortunate experience of being familiar with. But never had she felt it in such magnitude, not since...Regardless, it seems to be focusing around the Doctor himself, a strange sort of possessive entity that's currently rooted inside of him. The Doctor himself seems to be well aware of the curse, but for it to be affecting the facility as well-it must be something overwhelmingly powerful. Petrichor rolls her tongue along the top of her teeth as a sardonic smile tilts crookedly onto her lips. The woman casually strolls over to the nearest bot, looking upon it fondly as it works and surprisingly talks. She trails a curious finger along its smooth metallic finish before planting a kiss onto the estimation of its cheek. "Hey there. You're doing some great work, do you have a name?" she compliments with a soft pat. "What are you talking about? Mind telling me? I won't tell your boss. I'm much more fun, you know? I'm here to just listen." she winks with a click of her teeth. "I loved your singing too. I could hear it all the way outside." Regardless if the Doctor understands why or why not the bots sing and become more sentient, Petrichor can make an educated guess that the man doesn't actually try and bond with his worker drones. At least not lately, just judging by the sorry state the man was in. He clearly had a lot to deal with on his plate. In reality however, simply asking the strange bots might be the best way to actually figure out what's happening! She wonders how many sleepless nights the man has just watched or tried to reset them but not actually communicated with them. Hopefully she was about to get some information.
  2. "Take care, then." Fain murmurs to the man. "Do take heed of its call Mr. Belmont. You wouldn't want to become...lost, yourself." he calls as Archen pushes open the door. Fain turns to give Sinclair a neutral gaze, moving over to the table to set a necklace on top of it. It looks similar to the one he had just given Archen, but the gem inside is a beautiful indigo colour, and the clasp is silver. "If you need to contact Mr. Belmont for any reason Madam, you may by speaking into the necklace with intent. However, I must advise you to not use this simply due to misguided worry." Fain tells her with a bored tone, his words still strict in their droning quality. "He may also contact us this way. If he so chooses." Fain scans the house with attentive eyes, moving back to take a sip of his tea as he glances out the window. "I shall stay an evening, if it is not a terrible trouble for you." Fain asks her politely. Little did she know it was more for her sake than his own. The woman clearly wasn't used to being alone. The worry would likely eat her alive while Archen was out on his mission, something he hadn't done in such a long time and certainly not to such a difficult extent. This level of mission was certainly much above a fellow haunting or spook hunt, as it had as much to do with Archen and it did with whatever lost soul he is hunting. The icy air howls and sends a chilling wave of frost inside the hut as Archen trudges out. With a heavy shove, he manages to shut the door, facing the blizzard with a newfound purpose. The jewel inside of the man's cloak hums a small power, slightly warm within the fabric. The logical sense the hunter has is to not avoid the storm, but to go into it. Fain alluded previously that the cause for the ever worsening weather of the mountains might have to do with a lost soul shard residing in the snow, and the people missing must be connecting to that in some way as well. As the hunter trudges through the never ending snow and treacherous terrain, he finds it more difficult to see anything but grey and snow lining his vision. It's dangerous, no one in their right mind would travel through his terrible weather. His boot nudges something firm. Crouching near it reveals a body. Their body is covered in snow and ice, having frozen to death in nothing but their pajamas. The dead man isn't even wearing any shoes, the limbs blackened from frostbite. Strangely enough, even through the terrible snow and torrential blizzard, Archen can see the man's face is smiling. It's a calm smile, eyes glazed over with an expression of blank fondness, and their lips softly tilted up in adoration. There's nothing else to indicate what happened, only that the fool trudged out this far into the wilds in nothing but his silky pajamas and bare feet, and froze to death. And then he hears it. Faintly. Barely heard over the roaring winter wind. It's calling. Winter's lonely, cold, and bleak... Misunderstood and alone. Come to me so we can sleep, In the cold that we'll call home... It's like a siren song of lore, and Archen knows this is what he's here to find, and capture.
  3. "Allow me to briefly explain the importance of a soul shard. These are raw pieces of soul, as you know, therefore they cannot be underestimated. Shards are similar to that of a lost soul, but due to their fragmented status, they will latch onto their environment, emotions, and surroundings. They can draw in power from such things, and take the forms of whatever the strongest emotion or part that soul contains. It seems this soul shard has latched onto this dreadful environment in some sort of way, as it is tampering with the weather to an even worse degree." Fain explains diligently, gesturing outside to the howling blizzard. "You were chosen for a specific reason. It is not simply the fact that your particular set of skills are to be admired, no." Fain tells him with a pale gaze. "It is because if lost shards are free, they seek to become whole. To fill the void with anything they can. People who have given up parts of their soul are able to feel lost shards call to them. Consider it a strange sort of magnetism. Though it is very faint, the call will only grow louder the closer you get. This is why you will be the perfect person for this task. But you must take caution Mr. Belmont, for you cannot give into the temptation of becoming whole with a soul shard that is not your own. The consequences will be disastrous and you will destroy yourself from the inside out, if you accept a lost shard in your desperation to feel whole once more. Do you understand?" He asks softly, his pale eyes staring at the other man with a grave sincerity. Fain reaches behind him, lifting off a necklace that he'd been wearing underneath his cloak. It's a golden locket with a vivid orange gem centered in the middle of it. It glows with an ethereal energy even at a distance. "This is what you will use to capture the soul. It will keep it locked away until we can come collect it for you. You may use any tactic you need to get it to surrender. Whether that is fighting, or simply speaking and convincing it, I will leave that up to you. The shards though magical, hold a physical property that you can hold. It will not hurt you to touch it. This is what you will put inside of the locket." he nods, holding out the accessory to the man with an elegant pale hand.
  4. He gives Sinclair a nod of thanks as she presents him a warm cup of tea. Fain wastes no time in taking a sip, allowing the warmth to wash down his body and help warm him up from the cold. Pale eyes observe the rather pitiful attempts the woman tries in regards to soothing the emptiness that resides inside of her boss, but unfortunately for her, nothing would be able to fill that void without a price. Simple platitudes and nice gestures are only a reminder of Archen lacks and even worse, Sinclair seems to be enabling this sulking pensive behavior by treating Archen with such sympathetic behavior. At some point, Archen will need to realize that he must walk on his own two feet and find a purpose even without slivers of his soul. Fain fears that such a time may never come if Sinclair simply goes about her days serving the man at any simple back and call. Hopefully, this little meeting might be able to help the man in more ways than one. "You are not the cause. I asked you about awakened soul shards, not how you were fairing with the loss of your own." he mutters dully, eyes sharply taking in Archen's disheveled form as he takes another sip with quiet contemplation. "That answer is quite obvious in its own regard." he says with an unimpressed frown. Still, such an outburst from the man is promising. It shows there's a spark in there somewhere. Somewhere... "There was an incident at The Black Cathedral." Fain starts pensively, flicking his eyes up to examine Archen's reaction. "Several soul shards escaped confinement after a fire engulfed the building. It's the first time in centuries such a thing has occurred. By the time the fire was put out, several had already escaped and wandered." Fain explains, tapping on the teacup in light agitation. Fain licks his lips, straightening up and moving towards Archen with a sharp gaze. He places the teacup down silently, his hands moving to claps together behind his back as he stares down at the man with silent evaluation. "I want you to listen very carefully to me, Archen." he mutters solemnly, the use of the man's first name bizarre in itself. "I've made an arrangement with Velvet. If you are to help hunt down and recapture the lost awakened soul shards, he has agreed to return to you one of your own pieces. Do you understand the magnitude of such a deal?" Fain questions softly, his gaze growing lidded with apathetic judgment. "Is this a task you can manage to handle? I shall not waste my time if you are not up to par for such a quest and should you say no, then I will leave you to your frivolous nothings and cold nights."
  5. He says nothing else as he's led inside of the cramped building. The warmth of the fire is pleasant, Fain idly reaching out a hand to to feel more of its comforts as he waits. It was strange to go so far out of his way to track someone down. Fain isn't certain such a trip will be worth it at all if Archen doesn't actually agree. Though he has plenty of coin to spare, this matter is of a different nature altogether. Heavy thuds alert him of Archen's presence stumbling into the room. His nose wrinkles immediately, agitation flaring as the drunk fool collapses onto the other wooden chair beside him. The casual empty greeting he is given after all this time says more than anything else does. "I didn't come here to be greeted with such casual frivolity Mr. Belmont." he snaps with a grimace of distaste. "Some time indeed, it seems you have made a right mess of yourself." he mutters casually, eying the other man's form up and down with a calculated disinterest. "I do hope isolation has treated you well, for it was quite a trifle to track you down. I would not have come if it did not pertain to your interests." Clicking his tongue in dismissal, Fain gets up from his chair and regretfully turns away from the warmth. Moving over to the window, he glances outside, pale eyes narrowed in contemplation. "Though whether you're interested in anything these days, it would be difficult to tell with how the way you've stumbled in here as it were. Am I to offer you your money first and you shall accept on any condition? Or perhaps you're actually interested in the nature of what I am about to tell you?" he wonders, goading more than just a tired apathy from the other man. He turns, hands behind his back as he stares at the other man with dull eyes. "One would think a hunter such as yourself would have noticed...but allow me to articulate Mr. Belmont. Have you seen a change of weather these days? Perhaps the snowstorm outside that never seems to change nor dissipate, the sun being blocked out by the density of the snow? This of course is not entirely unnatural from the weather conditions of this area certainly, but I must ask: how long has it been like this?" He questions, furrowing his brows as he turns back to the window. "Five days ago started reports of people walking directly into the mountains. It's been reported by friends or family that they were acting normally one moment, and the next they simply stopped any previous action and left. They did not stop walking regardless of their gear, clothing, or time of day, and disappeared into the storm." There's a pause as he stares outside into the snowy mountainsides, lips tightening in pensive thought. "There is something out there, and it has taken root in these mountains Mr. Belmont." he mutters, his breath showing in the air as he exhales, even in the warmth of the house. "Tell me. What do you know about awakened soul shards?"
  6. There it was again, that madness of eldritch-like power encompassing the man again. The strange part wasn't that it existed to begin with, but rather that the Doctor himself seemed to know he was being plagued by an entity of some sort. She can see the resigned exhaustion in his eyes, her indigo eyes narrowing on the spasming chains of energy that imprisoned him. He is aware of his confinements yet cannot do anything about it. There was something big that was happening in this facility, bigger than anything she had seen before since her own incident. "Actually, I was bringing it up because you seem to have a visitor Doc. Just as you said, something got into the lab and hasn't gotten out." she says, a quirk of her lip moving upwards in a sideways smile. "You seem to be battling on two different levels of sanity here, not that I'm insulting you or anything." she chuckles. "Just wondering if that's a willing and consensual partnership. Healthy relationships need communication." she grins sharply. Petrichor rolls her shoulder, trying to get rid of the stiffness of her travels, indigo eyes taking in the sleep-deprived stranger in front of her. He looked worse for wear, to say the least. He looked truly haggard in the nicest of terms. Running a hand through her periwinkle frizzed out hair, she runs her tongue over the front of her teeth in thought. "Maybe it's not a good time to talk. How about you take a snooze while I chat with your bots?" she offers, casually dusting off her jacket. "Promise not to blow up your lovely building." she says as an afterthought, barely shoving down the 'yet' inside of her mind. The best way to make others feel at peace was to simply move about without a care. Casually being in someone else's space was never her favorite, but hopefully Marigold at least felt safe in his own facility and home. Though maybe even that was a stretch since it seems the singing robots weren't in his plans. Tapping her booted foot on the floor, she gives the man a wink with the click of her teeth. "Got some business I'd like to talk to you about, but I'd like your full attention. If you know what I mean." she smiles, hating the feel of that raw energy surge still tingling along her skin.
  7. In the hushed chill of morning, the sun is hidden away by a thick expanse of clouds and snow. A breeze blows heavy flakes into the air, swirling them violently before they make their descent onto the frozen ground, adding another fine coating of snow onto the treacherous ground. There's a soft almost undiscerning sound of footsteps over the blizzard that make their way along the icy paths and out into the unstable grounds. Steady and soft, they crunch along the snow continuing a purposeful trek through the isolated mountains of ice. They slowly pick up their pace throughout the expansive loneliness of the open area, a billowing of their cloak harshly whipping with the winter wind. Eventually, their steps halt as they meet the edge of the landscape. The snow and ice seems to disappear and in its wake, a gigantic cliff in its place. The stranger tsks, waiting a moment before simply stepping off the cliff. ---- The snowstorm never seems to stop these days, making it hard to track the nights from the days without an internal time keeper. As the days pass, the weather has only seemed to have worsened over time. Luckily for the sole inhabitants of The Bestiary, they are plenty used to making a living in the harsh climates of any weather. Unexpectedly however, this day, come three knocks upon the building's door, signaling not simply a howling winter wind, but rather a visitor. The area is heavily isolated, which means whomever is waiting for them must have purposefully come to seek out their services. When the door is eventually opened, it is a marvel who awaits them. A boy, perhaps a teen seems to be on the other side. Locks of curly hair as white as the snow surrounding them, and eyes as light and brilliant as the ice crystals of the wild. His skin is pale as the winter's hold on this place, with an expression to match. They almost look like the very spirit of winter that plagues these wilds, and it's hard to discern if they are a boy or girl. White eyelashes blink once, seemingly unfazed at the feeble black cloak that's billowing around his form and tied with a silver ribbon at his neck. He is wearing an absolutely unacceptable ensemble that wouldn't shelter him from the weather in the slightest. A black and silver checkered sweater vest with a white blouse underneath it. Along with this are formal black shorts with black socks that reach just the bottom of his knees accompanied by black dress shoes and a black tie. What was a child doing out in such a place? "Charmed, I'm sure." the stranger murmurs politely but with a blank face and a brilliant posh accent. He looks at her with sharp and intelligent eyes, holding his hands formally behind his back. "Might I speak with your employer madam?" What a morning indeed. @Djinn&Juice
  8. Petrichor plasters on a roguish grin as they enter inside of the elevator, mind whirling at the mix of energies the good Doctor seemed to be emanating. Rather sporadic, and blinking in and out of focus, like a broken radar. Her mind churns as she contemplates asking Marigold for more details about this nearly fatal accident. Elaboration would be good, if he was willing to speak about it, though it seemed like the good doctor was also lacking a bit of sleep as it were. Still, whatever he is saying found its way inside the facility, that's exactly what she might be here for. She had to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible. As they exited out, she was somewhat surprised to see another living soul wandering around. As Marigold introduced them, she had to internally chuckle, it was as if he was introducing two friends to one another when she had basically demanded entrance into his facility, a mere stranger, just moments ago. This new person didn't seem as if she was staying, which was a bit if a disappointment. Sometimes if the heads of the facilities wouldn't open their mouth, it was easy to pry information from loose lips from friends or acquaintances. "Likewise, Nikki." she replies to the other's greeting giving a charming little salute with two of her fingers. "Good luck on your mission." She made no move forward for a handshake, simply giving Nikki a wink and a click of her teeth before turning her attention back to the doctor. "Say Doc. Are you a fan of classic literature? How do you feel about the mysterious case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde?" she asks demurely, her smile growing into something with baring teeth.
  9. She keeps an easy smile plastered on once he begrudgingly accepts her in, though internally Petrichor was running through a number of things from just that one interaction alone. The good doctor himself seemed more than a bit untethered from sanity, then again; when aren't they in this profession? Still, there was some sort of otherworldly wrongness that seemed to linger in the air that Petrichor knew she'd need to keep a feeler out for. Ever since the accident in her parent's own lab, she'd been sensitive to these sorts of shifts in energy, not that she always understood what it meant. But this energy, this sort of corrupted magic, she was beginning to know all too well. "Thanks for the kind invitation inside Dr. Ravenspire. I'm excited to see what you have cooking in here" she says with a lopsided grin, feeling the scab on her lip pull lightly in protest. Had she known he'd accept to a potential business proposition, she might have cleaned up a bit nicer. But hey, disheveled casual was still a theme she pulled off pretty well. She taps a gloved finger to the side of her side in antsy energy, indigo eyes taking in everything she can without blatantly looking around at the area. "As for why I'm here well, you're right that there is always something more out...there. Can't help that I'm curious. To be fair, you're far more interesting than some of the other places I've been, but sometimes what's out there shouldn't always be in here, if you get my drift Doc. Why are you droids singing like that? Mind sharing while you show me around your beautiful little facility here?" she rambles casually, stretching her arms upward to loosen up the tightness in her back.
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