[ OPEN ] July Catch-all!

[unrequite]

WHO: Midnight (unreserving) & You (you)
WHAT: Midnight, please calm down, it's only been a week, you can't be this much of a disaster already.
WHERE: Lots of places! Mostly in outdoor or public spaces he hasn't been to yet. If you would like a closed or specific prompt, please PM me or take a peek at my OOC intro so I can get you set up!
WHEN: Pre and post Sylvain's shitpost. Probably mostly pre-event!
WARNINGS: Most definitely alcohol use! Some references to death and terminal illness. Will update as necessary, please see Midnight's content warnings for possible canon-typical content.


a. day (a local gym)

[ Generic workout routine. He does arms and legs on alternating days for about two to three hours there starting at about 7 am, then an hour (or however long he has at the end of the day until, uh, midnight) before showering and going home. He may also steal a practice room and swing around a stick he's found in lieu of his sword... He should probably think about getting a practice sword made, huh.

He's friendly, cleans up after himself, and will spot for anyone, but also feel free to accost him walking in or out of the facilities! But also, if your character needs... well, less of a personal coach and more of a cheerleader, he's there for you. Why'd you ask him for this? I don't know, but he's so there for you at this lateral press, bench, tiny silicone dumbbells, whatever. He is rooting for you! ]

Two more in the set and you're done. Don't think about it, just do it!

b. day (shopping center)

[ Midnight just needs to go clothes shopping. That's it. He'll carry bags for people, he'll help out with menial tasks. Look at this guy, do gooding.

Okay, specifically: ]

Do you think anyone would mind if I procured that?

[ He points at a neon sign, a bright Edison light, a small discoball, a chandelier. Something very bright, flashy, and... probably not intended for sale. ]

I mean, I don't suppose there's a manager, and I wouldn't like to interfere with their marketing, but I quite like it.

[ ... He rolls up his sleeves, drags over a chair, and begins climbing. He's decided he doesn't need an opinion anymore, or just straight up didn't wait for an answer. Look, sometimes a guy just desires a lava lamp. ]

c. evening (town hall)

[ Once the dust settles and everyone is perfectly happy with the distinct lack of helpful information in the help center, Midnight will still arrive there in the evenings, haul out a bunch of books into an empty side room, and flip through them, a plastic bag of assorted drinks at his side. (Mostly alcohol and water.)

Weird nightclub looking vampire here, books open on his lap, spinning a pen between his fingers. Occasionally, if someone walks by his room and doesn't look too busy, he'll get up, go to the door, and gesture to them, an open book in his hand. ]

Hello, love. Do me a favor and write anything you like here.

[ He clicks the pen in his hand and offers it. Man's doing some experimenting! ]

d. night (the park)

[ Remember the stick he has at the gym? He needed to find it at some point. During the evenings, but honestly any time he isn't doing something else throughout the first three or four days, he'll be poking around the park, searching for fallen branches long and straight enough to do the trick. It'll take a while, and he definitely looks like he's lost something! (Or feel free to assume that you've already joined the hunt. Find a bird's nest with no birds! An odd little gravestone! Get stuck up a tree! Help!!!)

If that is overly gung-ho Boy Scout behavior, feel free to catch him a little later in the night, either from 9-10 pm or 1-2 am, sitting at a bench, workout bag sitting at his side, his running shoes neatly tied by their laces and looped around the strap.

He stares out into the darkness. That's... sort of it. It still seems like he's looking for something, but not to the point where he's about to get up and look for it. If one would like to sneak up on him using the cover of darkness, his eyes will slide over and lock on a little more quickly than what should be natural. He sees you.

He grins. (Even if he isn't surprised, he grins.) ]

Hello, darling. Having a pleasant walk?

e. morning (everywhere!)

[ Remember when we said Midnight starts his workout routine at 7 am? He actually starts at 6 am with a jog. He'll be everywhere, just exploring, and he'll use most of the subway systems to make his way back to his gym of choice. He is... not shy at all about his body, so he'll probably pull off his shirt once the sun comes up so he can cool down a bit.

He is truly minding his own business here, but he'll pause his run for anything, even if it's just a short conversation. Or just feel free to wonder why there's a shirtless, sweaty vampire on public transportation at like 7 am. Where does he need to be? Where does anyone need to be??? ]

f. day (city hall, again, late July)

[ Midnight has a seat he's pulled up to the information kiosk, but he doesn't use it all that often. He only sits to add to a growing list in a book he keeps on his person. If one would peek over his shoulder, the list is composed of questions, some pertinent, some less so. Please feel free to make one up, but the first on the list is definitely "Are you single?", which should tell you how seriously he's taking this endeavor. ]

g. evening (shopping district)

[ Not much to this prompt either, he's just poking around. Poking around at the restaurants and bars in the area, his planner occasionally out as he takes notes on... something or other. He tries to choose establishments that see less traffic, so it's very likely that wherever he finds someone, they're the only two in the building. ]

Sorry to interrupt your meal. Mind if I ask you a few questions?

h. wildcard

Feel free to make your own starter, or PM for one! Will match prose and bracket text, please start however you like.

Comments

day / shopping

[indwelt]

[ Turns out when you land yourself on an indefinite vacation to a deserted city with no time to pack beforehand, the importance of stocking up on outfits rises exponentially. Sure, there's a laundromat he can wash his clothes in, but what is he supposed to do while his single outfit is in the wash, stand around in nothing but his boxers? How terribly impolite.

So here he is, at the abandoned shopping mall, a few extra sweaters draped over one arm as he stares up at the disco ball hanging from the ceiling, squinting through his glasses to keep from being blinded entirely. It certainly is colorful... Not his choice of household decor but to each their own. The world would a far less exciting place if everyone had tehe same tastes anyway. ]

Think of it as longterm borrowing. Whenever you end up leaving, you can simply return it back to the store.

[ Nothing wrong with that, right?? ]

It reminds me of some of the lights Pom-Pom tested on the Express awhile back.

[unrequite]

[ Midnight looks around the base of the disco ball once he's up on this platform. (Let's say he's climbed one of the mannequin displays in an offbrand Uniqlo. Just shimmied his long ass right up there.)

He wonders if he could just. Pull it out? ]

Who's that? This "Pom-Pom" character.

[ A test pull. He'll address the ethics of whatever he's doing once he's done. Right now: ball. ]

[indwelt]

[ ...That's a pretty impressive balancing act he's got going on up there on the platform. Truly, the youths (because everyone's a youth when you're 82) fear so little these days. It still doesn't stop him from taking a step closer to where Midnight is, just in case something breaks and this whole operation goes tumbling down. Not that his feeble old man arms would be able to do much, but it's the thought that counts. ]

Pom-Pom's the conductor of the Astral Express. Oh, the Express is the train I was traveling on before I arrived here.

[ At some he probably ought to mention Pom-Pom's inhuman nature as a three foot tall talking rabbit-like creature, but no point in sweating the details right now. ]

They're very committed to making sure all the passengers aboard are well taken care of, with all their needs met. Not unlike this place, I suppose, but far more personable.

a!

[centile]

[being kidnapped is no reason not to keep up with working out, and mob knows captain musashi and the body improvement club would be disappointed if he let himself slack. so when mob finds a gym he tries to keep it in his memory and go to it regularly, or at least for the same amount of time he'd spend on club days.

so there's a 14 year old who is wildly out of shape in the gym sometimes. he keeps to himself, cleans up, is also pretty polite all things considered. he often works out to the point of nearly passing out, aka it doesn't take much to get him to that state but boy, does he not give up.

like now, using the babiest barbells imaginable, sweating and trying his best to get just another lift in. the fact someone is cheering him on? that makes him blink but then nod, determined. two more!]

Fight... on... [he manages the club motto and gets those final two, letting the weight fall to floor as he wheezes a little. give him a moment before he's looking up, a faint smile. he did it!!]

[unrequite]

[ HIGH. FIVE. (If the poor kid is too tuckered out to high five him, Midnight will gently pick up his wrist and bring that five to him.)

He will then sit down next to the bench, fold his legs, and look around for the kid's water bottle to hand to him. (He... he did bring a water bottle, right? Can he sit up? Who is looking after these kids, man?) ]

Was that your last set?

[ He asks that pretty conversationally, genuinely curious. Fitness is a process he takes very seriously, and he's not about to belittle someone who's taking some very brave steps in the right direction. ]

c

[miyagimagic]

[ Daniel can't help but wander back out towards the town hall.

Sure, he already was here earlier. Sure, he's found out that it doesn't seem like there's anything important here - nothing that could lead him towards finding a way out of here, anyway. Nothing that would actually lead him home, which is where he wants to go.

But he can't help but hope that there's something. Maybe he just overlooked it. And he should probably go out anyway, instead of sitting inside by himself and feeling utterly miserable, especially with his physical state still not being great.

It's why - rather than an immediate verbal response - Daniel just.. gives Midnight a look.

It's somewhere in the middle of confusion and something more judgemental.

He raises an eyebrow, as if to say 'why,' not quite grabbing the pen yet. Despite the fact that Daniel isn't asking why out loud, it's still written all over his face as he looks at the other. ]

[unrequite]

[ Midnight just wiggles his eyebrows and grins, seeing if he'll take it, before giving into a laugh and turning a page to where his own handwriting spreads over the pages. He doesn't seem bothered by the judgment, slight as it is. ]

It's an experiment. See, this is a proper book —

[ He flips to the cover, displaying it in its blank glory. ]

— or at least it doesn't look like it's intended to be a logbook or journal, does it? I've been told that things tend to reset here, so I want to see if that extends to books that otherwise, well... miss the point.

[ He reopens it and flips back to a blank page. ]

As far as I'm concerned, a blank book is a journal. Or a sketchbook. Any manner of lovely things. I'd like to see if the City agrees.

d!

[bemist]

[ Gebura sucks at being idle, unless she's in a safe enough place to... well, meditate with her eyes closed. Which is more or less a nap, which is more or less not something that's going to happen while she remains on high alert even after a month of being here.

So she does something like patrols, moving about silently throughout the city at night, just liking the thought of being present in the off-chance that something happens.

What happens now, it seems, is passing this guy at close to 10 at night and having him call out to her.

Reluctantly, Gebura's stride slows, the faint orange glow of her cigarette flaring up slightly as she inhales. ]

I don't walk for the joy of it. What are you doing here?

[ ... on a bench. At night. Is this host work? ]

[unrequite]

[ ma'am. he'd be insulted. he is always hosting. the grind don't stop at dawn! there are always women to serenade!!!! ]

I was waiting here for you, Miss Gebura. [ ... ] In interest of our perpetual agreement to keep things honest, that was a joke, but I'm very happy to see you again. I was hoping we'd cross paths at some point.

[ He scoots over and pats the seat next to him. The expression on his face could be best described as ":)?". ]

Please. If you don't walk for the joy of it, might I suggest sitting?

night/park

[cinaedus]

[ Camille, despite his recent past of sneaking into all sorts of locations whether covert or not, is not in the habit of sneaking up on people. It would be difficult anyway, with his looks - he tends to stand out, and he's used to working with that. It's even more difficult now, the click of well-polished heels along the walkway. The sound isn't offensive amidst the silence of the evening, but it is certainly noticeable.

He notices the man some distance away, but doesn't hurry in his steps. He might be lost in thought, were Camille to wager. But when the other turns to him, speaks, the kindred pauses just a moment longer than necessary.

It's an impulse, like it always is, the response like fight-or-flight, like his heart jumps briefly into his throat, like he can remember what those truly are anymore. It's the urge of the beast to push out, to dominate. It's a split second before Camille places why: this man is like him — though, not quite, is he? Neither is he lupine, or ghoul. No, he thinks even as he smiles sweetly in return, this man is most like himself. ]

It's a beautiful night. I hope I am not interrupting your evening unduly. [ His voice is soft, warm, not like a blanket in winter but like the spice of mulled wine sitting pleasantly in the belly. ]

[unrequite]

[ While Midnight isn't quite catching the same connection, his eyes do float downward, then back up to give the stranger's eyes an approving look. He's very familiar with those who walk through life expecting to draw one's eye. He does the same. ]

If this is what constitutes an interruption in your eyes, I think I'd like to request several more.

[ Midnight smiles, moves to the side, and gestures to the empty space. ]

Join me.

day/shopping.

[fussiest]

Oh, there's you.

[ that had been the first thing kaveh had said when he'd somehow ended up wending deep in the belly of the shimmery, concrete structure that he would later learn to be a 'mall'. in kaveh's defense, the kamera image had been clear on its subject matter (startlingly clear, actually, to a degree that even the latest in fontaine technology hadn't caught up, leading to an entire morning of photo experimentations until the need for food had caught up to him). the fact that the subject matter had been difficult to miss through the storefront window also helped, in the way of a moving wanted poster.

the individual that had been pictured is now currently climbing a chair towards a particularly gaudy-looking chandelier. kaveh is watching. it's a bit of a morbidly captivated kind of watching. the chair doesn't seem high enough, but the man is tall, and he's also fairly determined, which tends to make up for some things. ]

Well, I don't think anyone would mind. [ kaveh has to think about this for a moment. ] Or rather, there's no-one of this city to mind. And if there is someone to mind, there aren't enough people to enforce the minding. It's a little eerie how little people mind, actually, but that helps with whatever you're trying to achieve with that chandelier.

[ because this is kaveh, he takes a morbidly closer step to crane his neck up just out of potential dropping range. you know, because being squished by a chandelier is kind of a bad way to go, even if death is apparently a weird concept in this city. ] What are you going to do with that? [ and because this is kaveh, ] Can the amperage in residential buildings sustain that kind of lighting?

[unrequite]

Me, indeed.

[ Midnight does not look down, is just the type of person to expect that other people have heard about him. The disembodied voice is correct, in that the chair and Midnight's not unimpressive height just isn't quite tall enough to reach the base of the chandelier. He gets an eyeful of his new stranger when he jumps down, straightens his coat, and looks over. Well, hello there. He gives the stranger a smile. ]

I haven't any idea whether any of this will work once I've relocated it. Not much of an engineer. Only one way to find out, though.

[ He winks, then walks a little further into the depths of the store, looking for a display platform or box to stack with the chair. ]

I rather think people are a product of the spaces they're in. Or at least they can't get away from soaking in some of the atmosphere. Perhaps you'll also become a bit eerily complacent if you stay here for too long, hm?

d. keeps invading ur inbox i guess

[limbical]

[In most cases, Daan would never advise someone to walk alone late at night in a city, but this is a semi-emergency: he had to get to one of the restaurants and pick up some more bottles to make drinks with. Call it a bit of his own self-medication. So, in a bag, bottles jostle together as he walks along.

He'd intended to swing into the park to catch a moment for himself. Maybe sit and have a moment for himself, dwell, relish the lack of footsteps behind him, think of Prehevil, Daan, can you do a diagnosis on her?

But he stops when sees a familiar man. When Midnight's eyes abruptly open and speaks, Daan isn't sure if he should wince or welcome it, so he does neither. (And it does occur to him, belatedly, how quickly Midnight notices him)]

It's adequate.

So, is your name so applicable that you had to be out in the dead of night?

rolls out a welcome mat and a "welcome, dirty daan" banner. puts a mint on the pillow. and so on

[unrequite]

[ Fellow lush. Good man. Midnight eyes that bag, wondering what's inside, before nodding a greeting to his GP. Adequate it is. ]

It's no obligation, but I do happen to enjoy the night.

[ Midnight pauses, thinking for a moment. ]

It's a codename. Did I mention that? I chose it myself. Do you know why?

e 😴💤

[luciole]

[Without Feather to wake her up, Lucinda makes a pointed effort to get up in the morning to start her exploration of this mysterious city. Memorizing the streets and pathways is going to be important sooner than later and the practical agent in her hammers this priority into her mind.

But god, waking up before 8 AM should be a crime.

It's hard not to spot Lucinda on the subway. Along with her peony flower tattoos, her long dark hair hangover her shoulders and curtains her face since she's leaning forward in her seat and... Sleeping. Very soundly.

A Shirtless, sweaty vampire would be an alarming sight if she was awake. Maybe.]

eepy 🥺🤲

[unrequite]

[ ... Why does this woman insist on giving him horror movie vibes? At least the tattoos identify her far better than her eerie curtain of black hair.

Midnight watches her for a moment, sipping at his water, checks the time, then looks back at her again. Honestly wondering if he should just leave her there to rest. After all, it's not in his nature to disturb women unduly...

... But there has been a murder fairly recently. Best not to leave her alone, either.

He comes up to her when the train rolls into the last stop, nudging her gently in the arm with his bottle. ]

Rise and shine, Miss Lucinda. The morning sun will miss your beautiful face.

c. evening

[emyoji]

[ Seimei is a professional lounger, wandering around like a stray with no particular direction or purpose. He even has one of the cups from earlier with a drink of his own. This is all a nice relaxing time in his opinion. When he sees the stranger that is distinctly not what his average human man looks like, Seimei of course stops to investigate Midnight as well. He might have been caught thoughtfully eyeing him up, actually, but when he's asked to write in the book, he does incline his head with a polite bow. ]

Anything? All right.

[ When he takes the pen, he holds it like an ink brush, tip facing down from his fingers rather than pointing out. He writes a quick quote:

The village is quiet
eaves are deserted
waking from reveries, the air is bracing.

He even sketches a little sparrow in flight under the words. And then he gently sets the pen back into the nook of the spine. ]

Will that work?

[unrequite]

[ Midnight turns the book back to himself, studying the lines briefly before he brightens, a smile spreading across his face. ]

Oh, that's lovely. It's more than enough, it's perfect. Thank you.

[ He takes the pen, writes down the current date, then closes the book before returning his attention to his gracious contributor. Oh, this young man's lovely, isn't he? ]

I've never heard of this verse. Is it yours?

d

[spectreless]

[ There are time where trees are perfectly made to be sat in to pass the evening. Coincidentally it puts Lenore in the right time and place to be watching Midnight searching around. Really, she's not hiding her presence, so can it be considered sneaking up on the man at all when he just happens to have wandered closer to where she was dangling?

Lenore drops down from the branch overhead; nearly crumbling at the knees when her feet hit the uneven ground with a loud thump. Besides the brief groan of discomfort she readily snaps back up to a straightened posture to address him directly. ]

Good evening. [ A grin. ] Have you lost something?

[unrequite]

[ Midnight doesn't like to be snuck up on, unfortunately; even more unfortunate is the lack of vampire senses he usually leans on to make sure people don't sneak up on him. Even more unfortunate is the fact that he'd actually noticed someone up this tree, but had banked on whoever it was minding their own business.

It's actually the kind of sad groan she gives when she lands that prevents a dart of white fire hitting her somewhere above the belt. Assassins dont usually give off the impression of bad knees. When she looks at Midnight, she'll find him already catching the flame back in his hand, putting it out, and shaking his hand to rid it of smoke. ]

Evening. Gave me a startle, there, love. [ Midnight gives a grin. To his credit, he only looks a bit startled. The greeting definitely helped calm his nerves. ] Trying to find something, actually. Enjoying the view up there?

C, after the 'secret' meeting but before the don quixote thing happens b/c what even is time

[codenametesla]

[She wasn't sure what drew her back to the townhall after her first... mostly fruitless adventure, but here she was, wandering the quiet halls, thinking, and lost in that sense of almost ennui that comes from a particular brand of empty and abandoned office buildings.

So seeing a door open, light spilling out, and the occasional noise inside, definitely draws her attention. The half-naked rock starpale man beats her to the door, however, and she stops short, blinking in surprise not only at the sudden appearance and request, but at the person she recognizes.]

Are you going to read it?

[Which was, admittedly, a stupid question to ask: why else would someone ask for something to be written? But she carefully took the book and pen, old habit of not touching anyone's skin kicking in as she very carefully didn't think about the first thing that popped into her head to write down, and instead tried to think of something else that would suffice.

time is a social construct... always has been... always will be.......

[unrequite]

Well, for the purposes of the experiment I'm running, I'll have to. Depending on the results, I'll be able to confirm if what secrets we write in these books actually stay.

[ Midnight shrugs, but doesn't look overtly invested in the answer. He's much more pleased to see Miss Althea again. ]

You should take another blank book if you want a journal, though. The city doesn't seem too keen on filling them herself, does she?

d. night (the park)

[possessum]

[ The man isn't the only Strange Thing to be found at the park after-hours... Someone has helped Peter find a place to stay, and he does hole up alone in that apartment most days, but there are times the young man wanders — eyes half-lidded and dazed, roaming slowly around like a spectre. He may wake up several hours later in any location, unable to predict or control an outcome.

It gets worse at night, as though the things that haunt him grow restless then. And so here he is, having slid from the quiet solitude of the apartment room and out into the hall, shuffling quietly along in just a pair of socks. His fugue brings him out into one of the city's parks, where everything is so still and so quiet.

On occasion, the silence is broken by a clipped cluck of the boy's tongue.

He wanders like that for some time, until exhaustion finally takes hold of his physical body and down he goes. Sometimes he ends up on park benches. But sometimes, like tonight, the young man is right there on the ground.... When Midnight starts poking around and searching for branches, he'll find something else instead — an entire teenage boy, tall and thin, all six feet of him curled up sideways against the earth. He doesn't look good, a large bandage occupying the center of his face, blood and bruises blossoming from around it. His eyes are rimmed in purple, and his breaths are too quiet, too still. He probably looks dead. ]

[unrequite]

[ Midnight decides to pick him up and sling him on his back. Of course he does. Well, of course, he pats a cheek, checks for a pulse first. He says something that he doesn't remember saying. If the young man is conscious, it sounds something like this: ]

Oh, my love. Don't do this.

[ But before the panic set in, the training did. Because of course it did. It's why he entered military service. He needed to be prepared next time.

Cover, triage, comms, in that order. Get out of sight, assess and treat the injury, then radio for help. Care for yourself first, cadet.

(Advantages to having such a strict drill sergeant in basic: you remember the discipline, not the fear.)

So Midnight checked that the boy hadn't been running from anything, that cover wasn't needed — why can't he see beyond a few meters in the dark, now, of all times — before moving onto the next step: triage. Pulse is weak, bandages look like they're beginning to soak with new blood. Breathing slightly. Still alive. He's not a medical professional, but he keeps some things in his workout bag. Water, of course, but a very basic first aid kit as well. That's where they're going. He'll pause if the boy regains consciousness, but unless he has some significant objections, Midnight will continue to follow procedure. It's what he can do. It's the very least he can do. ]