accepting that you’re objectively weird & owning it is infinitely better than being constantly desperate to appear normal to people who don’t even matter to you
[ a hastily-written note following his and Rune's visit to Germain's, as a note for follow-up should they not be able to immediately investigate it as a potential entrance to the Underworld ]
RESEARCH VAMPIRIC MIND CONTROL
requires eye contact
can alter memories, mesmerize, issue orders
possession?
[ the first part is a note he leaves to himself in a notebook he takes with him to see Walter. the second part are the highlights, which he records to share with the others when he gets a chance ]
It was the secrets of heaven and earth that I desired to learn; and whether it was the outward substance of things or the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious soul of man that occupied me, still my inquiries were directed to the metaphysical, or in its highest sense, the physical secrets of the world.
First steps past the door take you onto aged linoleum, covering the kitchen to the right, and cutting clear across to the door directly opposite the entrance. (The lone bathroom of the apartment, with the door ajar, light off.) He toes his shoes off the leave just to the right of the door, half under a small table in the kitchen home to only two chairs, which don’t match.
The kitchen and a little laundry closet claim the right side of the apartment. Microwave on the fridge, and aged electric kettle on the counter top, dishes drying in the rack. It gives the impression he’s a little short on space but doing his best to keep it neat regardless.
The apartment ticks. Faint, at first, until you notice it. Tick. Tick. Ticktick tick ticktick tick ticktick- whatever clocks exist in the apartment, they’re not in sync. If your host notices, he seems unbothered. You get the impression, though, that it’s become background noise of the apartment to him.
Immediately to the left of the door is a small closet. He hangs his coat on its door from a hook that looks too new to have been before him.
Just beyond that, the apartment opens up into the living room. Mismatched bookshelves line most of the available wall space. Titles vary in both language and genre. History and memoirs sit closer to the door, as do fiction books with titles suggesting anything from science fiction to historical dramas. Books closer to the bedroom boast more occult or supernatural-suggesting titles. Some bear no title at all. Covers tend toward hard and textured as books hint at more age or value than the odd pulp fiction piece.
The couch and a wooden chair with a flat cushion are clearly second-hand, as is the scuffed coffee table, which is biased toward the most comfortable looking seat in the whole apartment. Wedged under the coffee table are a smattering of books with titles suggesting bodice rippers, though he kicks at those before you get a chance to see cover art.
The living room terminates with another door (bedroom, closed), and at the very end, an end/console table of beautiful, rich wood. Above it, an old, heavy-looking mirror mounted to the wall, set in a tarnished metal frame. To the left of it all, an old grandfather clock. The source of the loudest off-beat ticking, you can surmise, and the time is all wrong.
It’s a small and worn down apartment, all things considered. He mutters what might be a curse in the same language he’d carried into the restaurant downstairs as he fiddles with the radiator. Cozy, though. And it smells like warm food despite the barren cooktop and table. Must be the restaurant.
2087
tangentwithtanner
gracieabrams
snowghoul
titsay
