scarsolderthanyou | In the Night: IC Inbox

[ On the morning of the 25th, Rastus might find by his door a parcel wrapped in old newspaper that reads "To Stone, From Aziraphale" and contains a knit scarf embellished with handmade tassels. It is very colorful. ]

[Stone wears it for the rest of the week, and comes to give Aziraphale a hug and a hair-ruffle later in the day. It's way more colorful than his usual wont, but it's warm.]

A ridiculously sealed note is left at Stone's place. When he manages to finally open it - why? so much tape?? - he'll see the following message written in a surprisingly neat cursive script:

Hi Mr. Stone,

I wanted to let you and the other people who fell asleep during the events and dreamt know the following: You can write to Dr. Solis and tell her what you dreamt.

You can do so at the Post Office. Postmaster General will send your letter to her.

And I hate doing this part but I really, really I'm asking pretty please to write to Dr. Solis and share your experiences with her. I wasn't able to find Mr. Elliot in the directory so I think he's gone. Meaning some details will be missing since his POV isn't around.

Thanks,
Daylight.

Lucky for both of them, Stone currently has claws. Yay shapeshifting malfunction. He gets through the tape with minimal frustration, only to wind up with additional frustration when he finds a handwritten note. Why do people keep writing things at him? He can't shitting see well enough for people to write things at him.

Stone takes a long few minutes of holding the note at arm's length before he puzzles out the gist of it, and sends Daylight a message back via the audio function of the tablet.

"Hello Daylight. Writing isn't very easy for me but I'll try writing to this person, sure. Unless you'd like to write it down for me."

His tone is relatively amused, at least, rather than annoyed.

"Also, Elliot was in the obituaries a couple weeks back. Sorry."

That part's not amused, of course.

~~Daylight's accidental reign of terror on those with difficulties re: reading/seeing is far and wide thanks to all the notes he had sent. So, at the very least, Stone is not alone in the frustrations.~~

There's silence on Daylight's end for a bit when he learns what happened to Mr. Elliot. Whether he's giving a second of silence for Mr. Elliot's sake or looking up the past newsletters to confirm this, it's hard to say.

"... I'm sorry to hear about Mr. Elliot, Mr. Stone," Daylight says at least, "but... Yeah. I'll help you out by writing down the letter for you." He's always wanted a chance to speak with Mr. Stone at length anyways, so this is a good chance for them to meet up. It also allows him to lead with a new question at hand: "Can we meet in person? I don't- I don't think the network is a good place to discuss this in details."

Well not a lot of things are safe in the wake of what's going on but more than usual.

"Mister?"

He sounds amused by the title, as it's an unfamiliar one in his world, but it translates decently enough into something respectful.

"Come find me at the Invincible. I'm in my room, up on the top floor."

"Yeah! Mister!" Because it was polite after all. "And sure! I'll be there soon as possible. You definitely can't miss me."

Really- No one could not miss Daylight in Beacon given his size and his colouring and his general demeanour. Especially when he's knocking at their door, trying to be subtle and sneaky given what he'll be helping Mister Stone out with but...

Again: His size and his colouring and his general demeanour. He's doing his best.

The door creaks open when Daylight knocks, because it hadn't been all the way closed. That way Stone doesn't have to uncurl from his warm hammock to open it. "Come on in, kid." He hasn't had much in the way of interaction with Daylight yet, though he's seen him around certainly, and he's admittedly curious.

But he's also stuck in a pretty disturbing form, and getting out of bed seems like too much effort. Daylight can see him craning his neck to peer at him from the next of blankets hanging from the ceiling like a very large hammock, all bony crest and black scales, a tail and one wing hanging out and touching the floor.

Daylight is unable to hide his wide-opticked expression of awe as he comes into the room, his winglets perking up in intrigued interest to see Mr. Stone's other form. Ever since Mr. stone mentioned he could turn into a dragon back at the town hall meeting, Day wanted to know what he looked like because!! Dragons!!! So cool.

... Cough. Come on, Day. You're here for something serious so act like it.

"-Hi Mr. Stone." Day hates the way he squeaks out his greeting but tries to soldier on as he begins to take out his sketchpad and charcoal to begin drafting the letter, "Thank you for seeing me at such, um, notice. Is there anywhere you'd like to begin or something?"

Stone has seen Daylight around enough to know what most of his body language means, at this point. Various groundling species have similar appendages, though not necessarily made out of metal, so he's had plenty of experience to compare and make guesses based on tone and expression. So he looks a little amused at Daylight's obvious excitement.

"Well, I guess 'hello' is a good place. Why don't you sit down?" The beds have been shoved against the far wall, to make more room for the hammock, and would probably make a sturdy enough seat for Daylight.

[A handwritten letter feels more genuine than using the tablets. So a letter it is, folded in half and slipped into the box.]

Stone,

Last week something overcame me and I need to apologize for some of the things I'm sure I said. I don't completely remember the details or what I thought was happening but I'm aware that I temporarily became someone I don't recognize and acted accordingly.

I want to reassure you that it seems to have passed. My lantern hasn't changed from its usual color in days now. I hope you can find it in yourself to disregard whatever might have happened.

Sincerest apologies,

Rosinante

"Thank you, Mr. Stone!" Daylight, who is very much used to sitting on the ground most days, is grateful for the possible chance to sit on something soft. He takes the opportunity, sighing in relief as he rests his weight on the beds and yep- They're holding up.

Okay- With that (and himself) now settled down, Day tries to get to business. "It means a lot to me that you're willing to help out with this. I'm sure they'll appreciate whatever information you have to give."

Day is careful to not use Dr. Solis' name. Even if it appears that it's only the two of them, he wants to be sure Dr. Solis is protected from potential danger if anyone else heard her name. The last thing he wants to happen is, like, a misunderstanding and fot someone to end up getting hurt, one way or another. "I was thinking we can start with the letter introducing yourself a bit and explaining your vision. It was... It was about the lake, right?"

[It actually takes several days for Stone to bother stopping by the post office. He never has packages or letter or anything, so why bother? It's a boredom visit after Rastus's meeting that has him dropping by, getting the letter, and puzzling over it a moment until he works out what all it says.

Then he goes hunting for Rosinante in person, because seriously, what an idiot kid he is.]

"Well, then, I guess you can tell this person of yours that I'm Stone, line-grandfather of the Indigo Cloud court, not that I expect she'll know what that means," Stone says with a rustle of wings that is the closest he can come to a shrug from his curled position, chin hooked over the edge of the hammock now to watch Daylight. "I can give you the whole story to write down, if you want. It started on the shore of the lake, when we got shoved into a boat like the ferry but smaller. There were fish, too, in the lake. I ate one."

((Switching to prose because I think we both prefer it?))

It's one cold day in the depth of winter here in Beacon, so while a hefty part of Rosinante still wants to withdraw and just not be found by anyone for the next entire lifetime after how he acted, he's instead making himself busy in order to keep warm. And maybe to think about something that isn't that particular brand of personal horror.

So at the moment, he's over at the north end of the square, just past the church, working on converting some of the recently-felled trees into barricades. The spirits will attack again, or if they don't then the people will turn on each other. The raucous marching band will come trooping along through town, and people far from a building will need something to hide behind. He's dead silent as he chops wood, having muted himself so as not to make a bunch of obnoxious noise so close to the main part of town, but the light catches his movements and glints off his axe plenty well.

He pauses to catch his breath as he finishes splitting off a long board, then looks over at the sound of footsteps and thumps a hand to his chest, mouthing the word calm as he does so.

"Stone. Hey."

Eh, Stone was tracking him mostly be scent, which holds much better than he'd expected in all this snow. So he finds him before too long. And he paces right up through the snow, and swats the guy's elbow. Lightly. "You're an idiot. Get down here on my level, would you?"

He doesn't want to just hug the guy's hips.

There's a momentary pause as Rosinante tries to work out Stone's intent. He certainly doesn't seem angry or upset, though he hadn't really expected that. The lantern effects were widespread, and Stone is easygoing. The apology still felt necessary, however. Rosinante is upset with himself, and upset that the others experienced whatever that version of him was.

He leans the axe against a tree trunk and squats downward, hunching with his arms over his own knees like the awkward bird his brother is named after, yet somehow they occasionally both resemble. "What is it?" he asks, not bothered by the casual insult, which is probably intended as an endearment anyway.

He gets another swat, this time to the back of the head, but it's still light enough that it doesn't hurt. And then he gets bony arms wrapped around his shoulders in a hug. Raksura are weird, sorry, Rosi. "Next time you want to blame yourself for Beacon shit," he says, "come find me first and I'll swat you again to remind you not to."

The swat doesn't bother him. The hug does, but he doesn't say anything. He just tolerates it without pulling away, offering only a frown in return for the duration.

"I'll remember that," he sighs after a moment. He's not going to argue it, for bringing up what happened would draw attention to it and that's the last thing he wants. If he's forgiven, then fine. He shouldn't be, but fine.

"I just hope it doesn't happen again. We still don't know what caused it."

Rarely has Stone had to deal with someone who doesn't like hugs. What a weirdo. He gives Rosinante a sidelong look, somewhere between incredulous and wry, and lets him go. "I'm not going to assume it won't. Starting to think nothing around here ever happens the way we want it to." Which will be problematic when they're hunting World Eaters, if they ever even get to that point.

Daylight begins to write down what Mr. Stone is telling him, nodding along to show he's listening to him.

But then he hears the last bit and he looks up, helm tilted to the side. "You ate one of the fishes?" He's trying not to sound accusatory. He sounds... very puzzled by the turn of events. It could just be him and the lessons that had been drummed into his helm: Do not eat anything that was remotely suspicious. "Um... What did it taste like, Mr. Stone?"

Look, he hasn't had freshly caught meat since before he died. And it's not like it hurt him. Not much can hurt him, food-wise, to be honest. "It tasted like a fish." He flips his tail against the hammock in a non-shoulder shrug. "Anyway, we were herded onto a boat with a bunch of building materials that took us out over the lake and into some kind of underwater tunnel, where a big clawed hand tried to grab us. I shifted into my bigger shape and took Eliot and Matt further down, out of reach, and that's where we found the building."

"Yeah. There's no time to get complacent, that's for sure. The moment you're comfortable, something new happens."

Something worse, specifically, but he doesn't feel the need to point that out. The lanterns are particularly bad because what happened was no hallucination. The lanterns are an extension of themselves, their souls, however one wants to see it. Harm that befalls those is dangerous.

"Anyway. You're right, no point dwelling on something we have no control over," he concludes.

Someone needs a lesson on the important difference between thinking of something and actually doing it. "Of course I'm right, I'm usually right. It comes with being my age. You're okay, right? Not going to mope yourself into a corner somewhere for the next week until something else horrible happens?"

"Moping doesn't solve anything," he snorts. "I feel like shit, but I'm not going to hole up and ignore everything because of it."

No, instead he's going to keep busy by doing menial but helpful tasks. Chopping wood, fixing the furniture he and Sora destroyed, touching up the paint inside. Useful things, but also tedious things. It's purposeful, for in tedium there's a sort of meditation he finds useful. Sometimes just emptiness, sometimes a chance to think ahead.

"You'd be surprised how many young consorts and warriors would argue with you about the benefits of moping," Stone says with some amusement. He surveys the wood-chopping. Gives Rosi a toothy grin. "You need another tree yet?"

He has Sengoku to thank for his take on things. Nothing to break a kid out of spiraling depression and constant cycles of fear like manual labor. Sengoku managed to find some way to make it gentle, calming, rather than the tough love it could have been from anyone else. But what else would be expected from a man who is also a Buddha of a sort?

"Wouldn't mind one," he says with a shrug. "We'll need a lot. Barricades and shelters, building restoration, plus we can trade the nicer pieces to Pluto." No boats being made anymore, but there are lots of other uses for the wood.

Stone is not ever in a million years going to admit that when he was younger, he did his fair share of moping. In his defense, consorts are encouraged to do that kind of thing to some extent, and he did have a blatant physical defect that might make his chances at finding a queen (specifically one queen, but) more difficult.

Still was stupid, anyway, and he knows better now.

"Guess I have my job for the day, then. Want to come along?" Isolating himself isn't good, either; Rosinante should have company. "I'll let you ride on my shoulder, if you want."

Hm. Isolating himself is practically his favorite pastime. But he feels somewhat obligated to say yes out of guilt over the person he became and who he had tried to apologize for.

"All right," he decides after a moment of consideration, and pairs it with a nod. "Could be fun."

He'll bring the axe along, because why not. Could be helpful for shearing off branches. So he picks that up in one hand, and lantern in the other.

"Of course it'll be fun. You'll be riding on a dragon. I’m told that's pretty impressive." Stone grins, amused half at his own expense, adopting that dumb "dragon" word so easily, and half at the actual joke of being vain about it.

So he shifts up to his winged form, relieved to be able to do that again without looking like a damn major kethel. And he crouches down, offering Rosinante a hand to climb onto, and to use as a step up to his shoulder. If Rosi braces his feet on the ridge of raised scales at Stone's collarbone, it will give him a bit of stability. If he weren't so tall, his feet wouldn't even reach; it's bonus for Rosinante's height, for once.

Ah, yes, very funny. Slightly awkward, given context Stone doesn't have about his people's fondness for dragons, especially after the past week, but he's not about to bring it up. There's only a slight flicker of lineface before he adopts a casual smile and accepts that this is happening. This should be fun, and cool, and it probably will be once he just lets go of the current issues plaguing his mind.

Rosinante hooks his lantern onto his belt at his back and pulls himself up without too much trouble, finding plenty of handholds and footholds among the scales - and it's true, with his height there isn't much climbing needed anyway. Last time he fell but this time he's determined not to.

"I'm good," he announces. "Ready whenever."

[ Stone, go check your mail! There's a small paper packet waiting inside. It has three heart shaped chocolates tucked in there, each with its own filling. The packaging reads, "Happy Valentine's Day! From, Sora."

No other explanation than that. Enjoy your chocolates, Stone! Sora loves you! ]

In the Night: IC Inbox

AT HIS RESIDENCE

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A SEALED NOTE. ( backdated: jan 21, tuesday. )

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Post office box, Feb 1

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Feb 3

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yaaaay prose is easiest XD

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02/14; in his post-office box