A Thousand Years of Boredom

I am Bernkastel, the Witch of Miracles. Don't bore me, okay? [An Independent Bernkastel RP Account from Umineko no Naku Koro Ni. Tracking catboxofmiracles]

[osakansax]

DO NOT VOTE FOR BERN!!!

[catboxofmiracles]

"Hm? I think I might have heard some dissent..."

[catboxofmiracles]

[katalamize-deactivated20170416]

a distinct lack of zombies

[katalamize-deactivated20170416]

“Hn…”

Kyoya didn’t answer, only regarded the Witch’s words with a hum of his own as he walked from one side to another, narrowed eyes taking in the form and details of the dragon’s dead body. He couldn’t help it, you see; it was quite the view, something he had never imagined of seeing in front of his own eyes before. And so close to the touch, too. If only they didn’t need to feed their starving stomachs, the skylark would have preferred to just leave the creature to rot on its own, instead of messing around with its beauty.

The talk between Bernkastel and the villagers was nothing more than background noise for him, till her voice sounded a bit louder and obviously directed at him.

Stopping whatever he was doing, the Cloud Guardian turned back to both Bernkastel and the citizens, who stood in wait for their decision. And then his eyes shifted to the child that had talked previously – a scrawny little kid, dirty hair hoisted in a messy ponytail and cheeks so devoid of fat that he could almost see the line of her bones. Kyoya frowned at the image, bothered; unknowingly to many, his soft spot wasn’t only for small animals. After a moment, steely eyes stared at the strangers again,

“Provide us with a carriage and half of this thing is yours.” The words were probably unexpected, because more surprised gasps followed before some hurriedly nodded their heads and scattered off. His attention went back to Bernkastel then, “I doubt we would be able to consume this much meat before it goes bad.”

And plus, they would be able to travel AND have a way of carrying their things.

[catboxofmiracles]

“Fair point,” she concedes. A carriage. That was a good call. She remembers the way some of the Voyagers went about in their ornate carriages leaping through the stars. Of course, she preferred the old-fashioned way of drifting and letting the waves in the Sea carry her, but who knows when she would be able to do that again. 

She watches the villagers start to inspect the dragon and wonders if they have sharp enough tools to break through its hide. Oh well, that’s not really her problem. Right now, she needs to rest. What she’d really like now is a nap, but she’s not one to sleep in front of strangers. It would be letting her guard down, or worse, inviting in harm. With her powers severely limited, she’d have to be on her guard constantly. 

The Witch drags herself over to a fence and props herself up. This way she’d have a good view of both the dragon and the villagers. Looks like they’re tearing the scales off one by one. When the villagers lay everything out, she’d load a scale or two into the carriage, and take one of the shorter back teeth for an additional weapon. 

But right now, all the can do is wait and recover. After she dissolves her scythe, she feels her magic slowly knitting her physical form back together. Not fast enough, not even enough for comfort. She lets out a sigh. The sooner this world gets fixed, the better. 

[katalamize-deactivated20170416]

a distinct lack of zombies

@catboxofmiracles | continuation to this.

While Kyoya did register in his mind the sound of Bernkastel moving next to him, just as awake, he was more preocuppied with scowling at the mass of villagers standing around them. Their constant murmurs and hushed voices just served to spike up his already growing irritation, and the raven bared his teeth in a groan, something akin to goddamn crowding whispered under his breath.

He almost thanked the Witch for bothering to give those strangers a voiced answer – because it meant he could just leave the talking to her, while forcing his tired muscles to work as they should and push himself up till he was standing. It wasn’t the smartest of moves, though. Kyoya had to clench his eyes shut for a moment as a wave of diziness washed over him, pressing a hand against his throbbing forehead. But even on uneasy feet, he was able to push his way past the sea of people, ignoring their curious questions as he focused on what was really important.

The dragon they had managed to defeat laid on the ground, lifeless eyes still open and tongue hanging out between its sharp fangs, while blood still seeped out of the hole on its skull. Kyoya squinted at the creature, reaching forward to touch its scaley body (gaining a few surprised gasps from behind him. God, those people needed to chill). It was very much real, solid and still slighly warm under his fingers.

And although the skylark should worry about how the hell that was even possible–

“Can we even eat this thing?”

[catboxofmiracles]

The villagers had stopped asking her questions once they shifted their attention to the dead dragon. Good- she was tired answering questions on a whim. There was politeness, sure, but it was more so they would eventually just get off her back. But they’re just as curious as they are fearful, and the dragon’s flames are still fresh in their minds. Even with the hole in its head, they’re just waiting for it to rise up again.

“We can,” she replies. “Once we get the scales off, it’s just like cutting apart a lizard.” Good thing they ran into a dragon too-- all parts are salvageable. The scales are heat-resistant and tough, fangs and claws make good temporary daggers, and of course, meat to eat. The only problem would be... how to do it. The thing is huge, and it’s no easy task. Her Scythe of Miracles is probably the best tool around to hack at the creature, and that’s just one tool. It would take considerable amount of work and effort....

“If you don’t mind,” says someone. It’s a young girl, in a tattered dress stained with dirt-streaks, “we could help you clean up the dragon.”

Which meant they wanted some for themselves. Most likely, their storehouses were burned in the assault, so they’d be starving for quite some time. Not like that was the Witch’s problem-- she needed to fill her stomach first. She thinks for a bit. Without access to her kitties, she couldn’t access the connective space that brings them from her home Fragment to wherever she was. Which means she had no way to store any food, aside from what she could carry herself. 

Her arms are thin. She isn’t used to manual labor.

“...Hitman?”

[catboxofmiracles]

[Friendly notice that @cafewildkat is back again!

They’re a really great RPer, and I’ve loved writing with them! Go check them out!]

[necrophadesoftheshadows]

Tch! Does even the mere wayward thought of you bring you around?

You’re looking as cruel as ever, witch.

[catboxofmiracles]

I am connected to any miracle, so wherever there is one, I’m there. Don’t act so glum, is my presence really that awful? 

I admit, I’m still a little groggy from that long nap, so I don’t have anything planned... yet. Although if you’re awake, you must have something fun planned.

[catboxofmiracles]

Ah, looks like that God is back too. Troublemakers always gather together, don’t they?

[catboxofmiracles]

And the cat came back the very next day

Is this supposed to be some sort of a joke?

[catboxofmiracles]

👾

A black body bag containing a set of burned skeletal remains. A Medicine or Forensics check identifies it as near-human, but not human. Mythos check will identify it as Ghoul remains. 1/1d4 SAN

“...I think someone left their trash here.” More food for her kitties, she guesses. 

The Great Court is going to have fun with this. More specifically, all the paperwork inbound for a certain Angel once they realize that the specified corpse and evidence disposal methods weren’t properly adhered to. Should be fun to watch from a distance.

[catboxofmiracles]

👾

Everything inside have been painted blue, the same hue of blue, everything is blue

It was the official color of the 8th District of the Great Court, but it’s not her shade of blue. Not to mention the fact that her rooms were never painted blue in the first place. 

“I don’t remember doing anything particularly awful these days-- I’ve been asleep, after all. Is there some reason for all these pranks? This is getting pretty ridiculous.”

Wasn’t he supposed to be practicing badminton anyway?

[osakansax]

Nom.

[catboxofmiracles]

👾

Strange squiggly signs cover the walls, floor and roof of the Green Box. They seem to have been drawn with some milky white substance which is more resistant to liquids and physical harm than it first appears. If the Green Box is of the walk-in type anyone entering it is unable to leave (when moving to the exit it appears to be farther and farther away (Lose 1/1d6 SAN). If the Green Box is of the storage box type items in it (including the signs) are always out of reach for those outside it (Lose 0/1d4 SAN). The only way to break the effect is by destroying at least one-third of the signs (this may have to be done by destroying the walls itself if you’re on the outside of the Box). Of course, there may be some good reason for the signs to have been put there for the first time …

Well, she can’t leave, that much is clear. She’s tried teleporting, and lo and behold, she’s right back where she started. Walking does no good either– it’s almost like this is an enclosed space. A locked box.

Well, she’s had enough of locked boxes her entire life. With a flick of her hand, the summons her jet black scythe. Guaranteed to cleave any miracle in two. She’s quick with her work, and good. The signs are sliced to pieces, exosing the hollow Fragment-space behind them.

“Is this supposed to be some kind of prank? How annoying… who’s going to compensate me for all these repairs, huh?”

[catboxofmiracles]

👾

Three rather plain-looking metal urns with screw-on lids. They contain ashes, as well as small blackened pieces of bone and enamel. Each has a small card with a handwritten note on them. The three notes say: "Agent Rufus", "Agent Roark" and "Agent Rose".

How nice, the lamp dropped off some food. Perfect timing too, her kitties did mention how they were feeling a bit hungry. 

“Kitties! Dinner time!”

Instantly, some of the cats on stand-by spring forward. They’re vicious but neat, and soon, the urns are cleaned of their contents. As efficient servants, her cats also take care to make sure the urns are cleaned to perfection. 

[catboxofmiracles]

 @patchoulampent Lampent floats back up, looking a bit woozy, but it quickly shakes the cobwebs out and floats over to the other witch. It bows a greeting, as best a floating lamp can.

It’s not the most unusual creature she’s seen in her travels. In fact, it reminds her of the one time Auau decided to turn her into a human and dump her in some universe where ten year olds fought alongside monsters. Actually, it felt exactly like the creatures there. Hm.

A Witch of her caliber doesn’t sit on the floor, so she takes a seat. The creature gives off some sort of dampening aura, as if it’s ready to intake something. Or that could be the flame burning on its forehead. “So, what do you want from me? Or do you have a message from your master?”

[catboxofmiracles]

It’s late, so I’ll answer the rest tomorrow! In the meantime, keep sending those little aliens!

[catboxofmiracles]

👾

A cigar box containing a straight razor and several polaroids of a pair of teens dressed for prom.

It looks like something right out of an evidence locker. Unbagged and unlabeled, of course. Either that, or something part of a crime that would one day come to be, in some Fragment, somewhere. 

The teens in the pictures all look so happy, so blissfully unaware of the fate that might await them. Nothing to spruce up a teenage romance like some good, old fashioned murder.

“Although it’s a bit strange, coming from her…” The Witch of the Finite always seemed much more pleasant, not like a Witch who’d find this sort of thing amusing. “Didn’t she always advocate for the betterment of youth, or something?”

[catboxofmiracles]

👾

A cylinder, of approximately 5cm radius and 11cm height, of 1cm thick lexan clear plastic, holding some kind of greenish organic-looking thing. It occasionally twitches. The label says “Please wait for death”

She reads the label. Admittedly, she’s curious. After a few seconds of standing there, it’s clear death isn’t happening anytime soon. That’s no fun, she’s growing impatient.

Carefully, she opens the cylinder.

The thing inside twitches.

A moment later, the Witch has been crushed flat. A mess of meat, fabric, and bits of bone lies flat on the tile floor. Inside, the green object still moves on its own, as if it hadn’t been disturbed in the first place.

The messy pile dissipates into black mist, and with a whirl, reforms into Bernkastel’s form. The only evidence of her ever being crushed meat are the occasional flecks of blood on her dress. “I died… I really died there, huh. At least the product delivered.” 

What a fun prank.