citylogs | [open] a cat's the only cat that knows how to swing

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[open] a cat's the only cat that knows how to swing

WHO: Daan (

limbical) & YOU!
WHAT: July catch-all. Event, non-event prompts, you know.
WHERE: A bank! A restaurant! Maybe the clinic!
WHEN: J-July
WARNINGS: Severe depression, alcoholism. CSA mention in the thread with Midnight, marked.

A. IN THE VAULT [event]

[With the possibility of a new place to explore reveals itself, it's only natural for the floodgates to open; there are plenty of people here, and Daan is but one of them, nosily investigating for any clues. Though typical as ever, there is nothing to reveal whatever secrets the city holds, or whoever their captors might be. No useful files, no names, nothing.

Then there are the keys.

Sorting through them is interesting at first, as he recognizes some of the names that they go to. They're names to people currently in the city. Which also means...

Yes. There is one for him too. Daan | Daniël is embossed on the tag, clearly indicating him. It's bothersome enough that the name he goes by mostly is there, but the other...

He scowls, plucks his key free without a word, and marches into the vault to find where it belongs. There are rows of safety deposit boxes, but finding the corresponding one isn't much effort at least. He opens it, and inside is a note. Something or other about sharing, which he pockets for now in case it does end up important. But the item inside...

How could he forget?

A little box is inside, which Daan delicately pulls out, his eye wide. His shoulders bunch, and he swiftly walks to a corner, as if he could steal the semblance of privacy. Lips quiver as he opens the box, revealing inside polished tools for sewing.

The sight of it almost seems to bring Daan pain and he shuts the box swiftly before he presses his forehead against the wall, shaking his head to himself. He always tries to keep his mind even and cool, even if it is a pretense, but it seems that this has successfully shaken him to his core. Absently, he whispers to himself:]

How the hell did they get this?

[And then the vault door slams shut, jolting him out of his thoughts.]

B. DRINKS ARE ON ME [post-vault]

[He couldn't rightfully call these his worst days. After all, Daan has lived through those; he's remarked that his time in this city so far has been more like a vacation in comparison, and frankly that is still true. However, that doesn't mean he isn't still miserable.

The weight of the little wooden box in his pocket indicates as such.

In one of the restaurants, Daan is behind the bar, mixing a drink for himself. By how much the whiskey bottle has been emptied certainly indicates how many he's had, but he isn't in the mood to stop. The bank and the dreams he's been cursed with both haunt him alike, along with everything else he's ever put up with, and he's had enough.

He almost misses the Pocketcat's ever closing in steps and rotten promises.

When you enter, he forms a smile that looks too sharp, almost cruel as he lifts a glass in some toast that only he knows.]

Shall I pour one for you? [And then he proceeds to drain his glass.]

C. WILDCARD [choose your own adventure]

[If you'd like a specific prompt, hit me up and I'll make it happen!]

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[ Tsuruno is, thankfully, a little more polite to adults than fellow teens who don't usually get warnings unless she gets the impression they dearly need it.

But she slips from her seat, trotting around the side of the bar to throw her arms around him in a tight hug. ]

I can tolerate a lot!

[For a moment, he holds still before he gently places an arm around Tsuruno's shoulders. Just enough to return the affection. She's a good girl, and as much as he wants to leave this city he wants to make sure she can too.]

So I see. Silly of me to think otherwise.

...Thank you, Tsuruno. I'll have to do a better job of being more reliable for you.

[She takes the offered note and reads it aloud.]

"Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it."

[. . .]

We're dealing with riddles now?

[Lucy's set on figuring it out now. She looks at her jade bracelet again. What was she supposed to share? No one has use for this thing, even for vanity, much less Daan who was being heavily affected by the memory of his deceased wife.

... Maybe... No, she'll go over it with him first. Have something to chew on before she acts on her own thoughts.]

What do you think it means Daan? I have an idea but I'd like to hear your thoughts first.

Edited 2023-07-22 23:18 (UTC)

[ Another smile. It is, indeed, another "yes" kind of smile. ]

I'll be better prepared, next time.

[ There's so much to say, but none of it fixes anything, even if words could. Mostly, it all comes off as confessions. Divulgences of a type only guilty men carry with them.

But there's something to be said about a guilty man. One that sees guilt for what it is, anyway. Better than one who doesn't understand the weight of their own sorrow at all. ]

Have you been drinking water?

[ Is what he says instead. It's necessary, at least. ]

[ She offers one last squeeze before releasing her grip. ]

That's not what it's about, you know? I don't need you to be reliable, I need you to know you don't have to be weirdly strong for my sake.

Ha. Ideally, there won't be a next time for you to be worried about...

[Being vulnerable is a difficult thing for him. Especially since there are so many questions still lingering that Daan isn't sure he'll ever have answers to.

But there is something for him to know: Midnight does have well meaning intentions, even if he should probably know better than to fall for someone like Daan.]

Only if you count the water in an old-fashioned.

These sorts of situations love puzzles. God, give me a minute here...

[For a moment, he's quiet, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Wishing he had a drink or a smoke, but right now all he has is Elise's beloved sewing kit and the memories with it.]

These belongings... it gave me a memory when I held mine. Or like I was reliving an experience.

Either we're sharing the items, or we're sharing the memory. Something like that. That's what I think.

Is that so?

Well then. That goes for you too, all right? Don't have a double standard about it.

[That makes Lucinda bite her lower lip. When it comes to her memories... Well, her story was well-known among the Esper Collective but at least no one would bring it up unless they were trying to be demeaning. And those were the kind of people she wouldn't have as company anyway.

Sharing was not inherently something she was against but it was no less agonizing. But they were stuck in the vault until then and she couldn't suggest anything else.]

... My mother would dress me up. [Lucinda moves to lean her back against the door. The jade bracelet dangles from her index finger. Her face is expressionless.]

I had a role to play and had to look the part.

[The unfortunate fact is that for Lucinda, her memory required context.]

Daan? Do you believe in ghosts?

[ugh parents. They always manage to fuck up their kids. Fortunately, she immediately has his attention and compassion. Plus it's easier to focus on that instead of his own turmoil and misery.

It's shitty, but he genuinely would rather focus on Lucinda than himself.]

After all I've seen, I'd be a fool to not believe in them.

I'm listening, Lucy.

[At least she could do that much for him. Misery loves company. Idly, Lucy tries to put on the bracelet. It doesn't fit anymore. Of course, it wouldn't. She's all grown up now, obviously.

(Sometimes, it doesn't feel like it.)]

I'm a medium; meaning that I can see and speak to the spirits of the dead. And unfortunately, I can be possessed by them.

It was something I discovered when I was a child. And at first, I thought it was an exciting thing. My parents saw it as an opportunity to exploit people broken by grief and loss, who would do anything to hear the voice and words of their loved ones.

[People like Daan. But she doesn't say that.]

[Whole lot of people who are usually psychics or spirit mediums here. But fortunately, that sort of thing doesn't really surprise Daan, so he doesn't question the logic. Marina would have a field day asking Lucinda questions, though.

He can't decide if it's better that the girl isn't here or not.]

Fuck your parents, if you'll pardon my language.

I can see how people would be desperate for that. Closure.

[it's okay he'll subtly call himself out]

Yes. Closure.

[She smiles at Daan's curse towards her parents because... It's not something she would say aloud herself. Her adoptive parents, or at least her adoptive mother could speak all the ill of them to make up for Lucy's lack of it.]

And your language has been pardoned.

... When the money started pouring in, our lives improved materially.

[She wonders how much she should share or rather could. When it comes to sharing you don't need to give out the whole portion, just slices, enough information to make the other person satisfied.]

It didn't make for a happy child as you can imagine. But my parents wanted more and more, and I wanted to be loved by them, and then the word spread that I was the real deal and more people flocked to me. A vicious cycle that wore me down.

[Lucy holds up the bracelet.]

So if nothing else, I had to look pretty.

[There's a bit of anger on her behalf because yeah, there it is: shitty parenting strikes again. But he does understand a bit where she's coming from. There'd been parts of Daan that just wanted love and approval from his own parents, but he knew where to draw the line.

Then again, their situations are not that similar. Still, suffice it to say, his statement before remains relevant.]

And so the pretty bracelet, to dress up their medium to be pretty and presentable, but not on your terms.

You deserved better than that. [He absolutely says that with full confidence.]

Mm. Well. I treat myself right by not wearing any jade jewelry as a matter of principle.

Thank you, though. I eventually left my home. My parents don't think of me anymore.

[Because she made sure of it. There are a lot of details she's leaving out (her uncontrolled possessions, how the more vile spirits would send her into episodes and bursts of violence towards everyone around her, including her mother and father, and the basement...)

No, this is more than enough. It should satisfy as an answer to the riddle.]

... We've both been through too much it sounds like.

[Ah, shit. It's his turn, isn't it?

Daan holds the box uneasily in his hands, and he looks down at it. Why'd it have to turn out like this? It'd be real nice if the door just opened after that, but... no. Even then, he does on some level believe in an equal exchange. Despite everything, that's how he was taught.]

We both have been, yes.

...My wife, Elise. I met her not long after her father, Baron von Dutch, took me under his wing. I was at first employed as their butler, taken off the streets. He promised to teach me medicine. When I first saw her, I was convinced I'd never seen anyone more beautiful.

She could've been a doctor too if she wanted, I think. She was intelligent, not shy about her opinions. [Despite himself, his lips twitch, almost smiling.] Stubborn. Elise would spend her time sewing. Clothes, dolls, pretty much anything...

Well, I'd drink to this being a one time event, but, ah...

[ He gestures to his glass, then... Gets on the bar. Just sort of shifts forward, turns and hops up there, sitting and reaching for the glasses backward, looking around for the water dispenser. Sorry if this was sacred ground, but Midnight is very used to getting exactly what he wants, when he wants, and what he wants is for his doctor to not turn into a kitty themed, liquor soaked raisin. ]

I'd like another drink with you at some point. I'd also like to talk to you about my mother.

[ — Ah. Midnight pauses, glass in hand, then cracks up. ]

Oh. I was doing so well.

[listen here man he'll always be in furry hell

Anyway, Daan is going to lean back a bit and give them like. An inch between them. look there's no a lot of room behind the counter]

Right. Another drink, probably when I'm not already a few in.

[Honestly, he still doesn't quite know what to make of Midnight in some respects, but ultimately he's already decided that he means well, so. There's that.

Anyway what]

What about your mother, exactly? [why are we talking about parents]

[ Midnight's still laughing to himself, filling up a couple glasses of water for himself and Daan, but after he pushes Daan's toward him, he'll balance a bit, stick a hand in his pocket, and pull out a small, off-white envelope from his pocket, waving it in explanation. ]

Now, this had me in quite the state when Lan Xichan handed it off to me yesterday, but after the one time, I'd already had quite my fill of divulging my past to others. The past belongs to the past, and so on. I dropped it off at my place before running errands and thought nothing more of it... But it is from my mother, so I've had it in my pocket the whole day today.

[ Midnight slips off the bar and goes back to his stool, sticking the envelope back in his pocket. ]

I just cannot stop talking about her with everyone I've encountered. I rather think it's got some Arts to it. I'll be going home after this to drop it off, but you must understand that I don't usually lead into conversation topics about my mother. I do apologize.

Now, let's see...

[ Midnight hums, thinking. The easiest way to dispel this compulsion is to reveal at least one thing about the item that Midnight would rather his conversation partner not know. For Midnight, though, that's pretty much everything, so it's taking him a moment to come up with something specific. Yes, seriously, this is how Midnight figured out the secondary effect. He just does not talk about his past, ever, so narrowing down the culprit was pretty simple. ]

Stop.

[There's an annoyed sigh that escapes Daan. To Midnight's credit, he decides to have a drink of his water, though it's certainly going to take more than that to really do anything about the effects of all that drinking he'd done earlier. He pauses, rubbing along his eyepatch before he continues.]

How the fuck do you think I feel about it? Spilling my guts about my wife. I even told you about my parents to some degree, which is not a topic I'm thrilled about either. And here you are pussyfooting around what to tell me.

I'm a man who was taught to understand equal exchange. If you don't think you can bother with that, then don't tell me a single thing.

I've had my fill of... half-truths, as it were.

[ Midnight's still smiling. When he sees his means of escape snipped away, one by one... Well, he at least has the grace to look away as the smile drops.

He honestly considers standing and leaving. It's not worth the mixed signals, much less Daan's ire, but the compulsion is there. Still... He picks up the water, drinks, then puts the glass down before speaking again. ]

This letter is one of several. At least, oh... thirty, I'd say. Twenty years' worth, more or less.

[ Midnight snorts, but it's out of derision this time. Inwardly directed. Stupid. A fool. The one he acts, but writ too large. ]

She really wanted me home. For twenty years... Not that I knew that.

[ Midnight drinks again, looks at the glass. Stupid. This couldn't be liquor now. He should've asked for another. ]

I couldn't bring myself to open them. Twenty years ago, I ran away from home. What's the point of reaching out after that long? What could we possibly still have in common? Nothing, really. So I never opened them. This is the last letter I got before leaving the country. Think I might've put it out with my burnables. Not sure how it got here.

[ ... So, some unopened letters, an estranged son, a runaway. Pretty standard fare, honestly. Midnight sucks at his teeth. It's not enough. Not enough for the compulsion, not nearly enough for a fair exchange. ]

[Honestly, he kind of figured Midnight would take the opportunity to not share after that. After all, it was a way out, in a way. Instead, he begins to explain.

Daan holds his glass of water, even if he'd rather it was more of his cocktails.]

Why did you leave home?

[So many reasons. Should he even ask? Does Daan want to know? Daan's already bore his heart in such an ugly way, and basically demanded the same, that's on him, that's on Daan.]

[ ... Midnight puts a hand over his mouth before he starts laughing. It'll just sound ghoulish at the point. ]

Because everything was perfectly all right at home, but I had fervent dreams of homelessness that ended in a red light district two weeks and six train tickets away from home.

[ As quick as that flame of anger flashes, it dies. ]

I got terribly lucky, by the way. Never ended up in bed with anyone I didn't choose for myself, in some way. Wasn't on the streets long enough for that.

[ ... Oddly enough, that's enough for the compulsion to break. Midnight grins, sharklike, as he feels it fade. There. City-mandated period of self-pity complete. Not even a scratch. It's like it never happened. ]

Sure, if you don't have a double double standard. Should we shake on it?

[ Ideally he's not one of the adults who agrees to rely on someone a little and then proceeds to continue to shrug off his own problems anyway. ]

[The laughter just makes Daan scowl at Midnight. There's a lot he's avoiding. Not that Daan is exactly in a place to judge, but frankly he also doesn't know how else to explain much of his experiences other than "shit's whack."]

How fortunate for you. Not all have even that as a luxury.

[Daan did anything he could to survive. Anything.]

I take it that's enough to satisfy the little curse that was given to us?

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[open] a cat's the only cat that knows how to swing

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