void.

yohan ernest. dead.

[yohan-ernest]

alina-hennigar·:

“It’s about the stars. I have a great fondness for astronomy” the young samodiva said with a grin, already considering lending Yohan that particular book -Milham’s How To Identify The Stars- when he confessed he actually didn’t know how to read. Alina tilted her head to the side, curious as to why he hadn’t been taught to do it yet. “Would you like to learn?” she asked without missing a beat, ready to volunteer herself as a tutor if it was something he felt like learning to do. Her eyebrows knitted together as she watched him cut off the head of the fish. He made it look so easy. A well-practiced skill, she supposed. She accepted the knife when he handed it to her and focused on imitating the motions she saw him perform, but somewhere along the line the knife just didn’t move further. She leaned closer to the dead fish to try and see what was the problem, suspecting she’d hit bone rather than move the blade between a joint. She readjusted her knife’s path, making a less than perfect cut and finally managed to sever the head off. “Ah, there it is” she stated. “Who knew? It’s not as easy as it looks. You’ve been doing this for a while, huh?”.

Yohan stares at her, or rather, peers into her. “You like the stars? Why?” he asks. Stars mean the distant lights visible on the night sky, he knows that. But they meant nothing to him. The stars are far, but his feet are on this earth and his soul is probably six feet under the ground. What could stars possibly offer to him? Or her? “Charles has been teaching me. Said I’m gonna need it.” He replies matter-of-factly before shrugging, “and learning new skills is useful, most of the time.” It made sense, that he needs to learn how to read. He can’t be of use if he can’t read grocery lists or ‘do not interrupt’ signs... Although he is not sure if that is the answer she was looking for. As Alina begins to work on the fish gingerly, Yohan observes patiently, not moving a muscle. He hums as she finishes. His head tips to a side at her words. He never thought cutting something was difficult. “You hesitated.” He points out, “it’s easier if you think of it as... the knife is just going where it’s supposed to go. You’re not sawing through the flesh-- you just slide it through the seam. If that makes sense.” He scratches the back of his hand, uncaring if his hair smells like a fish later. He is not great at giving an instruction; most of the time he is at the receiving end. “Not really, but fishes are easier than people.” He says as he grabs the fillet she cut and tosses it into the tub.

[yohan-ernest]

charleskian·:

Charles pauses. “The door fell off, or the doorknob?” he wonders, because he can never be sure with Yohan. The man is… Well, not a walking disaster, but eccentric in a way that Charles is certain things will continue to break around him for several more decades. “We’ll fix it later. Make a note, we don’t want to put anyone into it.” He doesn’t think business is booming enough to worry about it, but better to start the habit of organization early. Absently, he nods, “Yes, don’t call them humans. It’s easy to have a slip of the tongue when talking to someone familiar with our stories. I started the term a while ago - for me, unfortunately, I haven’t spent enough time around oddities.” Traveling so often means he hardly spends time with anyone. He doesn’t enjoy existing on the peripheral of people’s lives, but that’s why he’s here, isn’t it? The inn is meant to help that, to give him roots where he feels he has none. “Banshees are my least favorite to handle at times. Distance fighters if you anger them, and too knowing when you aren’t, I prefer… Well, better than a revenant. No offense meant.” He contemplates Yohan’s words a moment, and then nods. “Many would find it easier to accept something ordinary than think it was something… unusual then?” he questions. “I daresay you have more experience than I with some of this.”

Yohan nods, in all seriousness. “The doorknob.” And the piece of wood that used to be a part of the door, but that is a minor detail. He doesn’t handle the booking (for obvious reasons), so he doesn’t know how he can help with that, but he makes a mental note nonetheless. Don’t put anyone through the broken door. He nods along as Charles explains. That’s usually easier than questioning him. Charles is, according to others, a wise man, and Yohan has learned a lot from him, so... Even though he rarely talks about his... story, whatever that is supposed to be, or use the word ‘humans’, he should watch out. “You want to go for their heads, and take them out fast.” He comments casually, as if he was talking about how to fix a broken doorknob. He looks at Charles, blinks without much of expression. “Was I supposed to be offended?” He asks. Revenants are hard to kill, difficult to get rid of. Unless you can locate their phylactery, it’s not worth fighting them... That’s just a matter of fact. Yohan shrugs, doubting that he has more experience than Charles in anything. “It’s easier. Nobody likes to face something that they don’t understand. So they find a way to explain.” 

[theola]

Closed rp for @yohan-ernest​

Date/Time: Monday August 9, 1920 / 7:18PM (about to sunset)

It had been the Monday-est of Mondays, and Theo was antsy and ready for some fun. Everyone he had approached at Montmorency Park had been polite but boring, and Theo was ready to stir the pot before he went home to another quiet, dark room. God he needed to make some friends. He considered himself friendly, but maybe a bit overwhelming. Maybe he should work on that.

As he sipped on a glass bottle of pop, the man eyed people walking their dogs, jogging, or going from Point A to Point B. He noticed someone who appeared to be in the latter category, and he gulped down the last few sips of his Coke, tossed it into the bin, and ran up to the person. Any notion of ‘leaning into it’ had been thrown out the window as the young witch was excited to meet a new face.

“Hi there, Monsieur. I’m Theo. Somehow the townsfolk gave me free reign to take care of the park when we relocated from Paris. Now its surprising I’m not sleeping on the grounds of Montmorency, though that would probably make me arrive on time to complete my duties. But no one is watching me, my ‘test run period’ is far over, and I have the freedom to make Montmorency however I please, there are just some guidelines I need to follow for the rituals. Now, before I judge a book by its cover, tell me a bit about you, sir? Can I help you find somewhere to go, or carry something, or recommend some nice restaurants to eat dinner at?”

[yohan-ernest]

A day-off. That’s what they called a day where Yohan isn’t needed at the inn (not that his contribution is any valuable. Half of the time he is fixing whatever he has broken that week). They didn’t give him any work, and told him to have a day off... And then Charles found him crammed on a chair too low for his legs, staring at a spot on the floor. ‘Go explore’, said Charles, and Yohan said ‘okay’. He would have been content staring at the spot (it was a tiny oval-shaped, black dot on the wood), but someone telling him to do something usually overrides his base instinct of ‘do nothing’. The trouble is that Yohan doesn’t know what he is supposed to explore... 

So he has been walking around the town, for about 5 hours now. People of Zora usually leave him alone, and Yohan doesn’t speak to people unless he is spoken to or in needs of something (which is a rarity itself), so it has been an uneventful walk. Time to time, he notices things, a whisper about the stolen grimoire (Yohan remembers it being a book witches make from his hunting days), complaints about humans, a random coin on the street... 

Yohan catches an approaching footstep and bullets of words too fast for him. He doesn’t stop, just keeps on striding across the park. It takes him exactly 3.6 seconds to realize that this man is talking to him. He stops on his track and turns to the man. He stares at the shorter man for 12 seconds, retroactively processing. “That’s not my name” he says, a finger pointed at himself. “Yohan.” He then continues to stare at Theo (whose name he probably will forget soon). “And you speak too fast, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He did catch the last part, though, so he answers. “But I’m supposed to go explore?” 

[yohan-ernest]

alina-hennigar·:

“Yes, I know” the samodiva stated with a nod. She remembered his name from when they were first introduced. And there really weren’t that many staff members wandering about the inn, so it was fairly easy to recall his peculiar man. Alina grinned when he stated that he’d noticed her read a lot of books. “I do. Papa sometimes says I’m too curious and restless for my own good at times, and books are a good antidote for that” she told him, clearly never taking the adjectives ‘curious’ or ‘restless’ as negative traits. “Do you like to read? If you do I could lend you some sometime” she mentioned casually, wanting to learn what topics Yohan might be interested in. Her mouth opened to say that he could potentially tell Charles that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be during work hours, but she closed it without saying anything. If it hadn’t occurred to Yohan to do that, she wasn’t about to give him the idea. “Nevermind” she said with a wave of her hand, shaking her head, and her attention went back to the fish. “I suppose I can. I’ve never done it before, but it doesn’t look too difficult” the redhead said as she held out her hand so that he might give her a knife. “Tell me what to do”.

Yohan blinks slowly like a cat does when they stare at you in soft detachment and tolerance. He is still getting used to that name, or having a name to begin with. “What is it about? The book of yours.” He conceptually understands that writings and books are invented to disseminate information, a form of communication, but Yohan is no use in that department. “Um,” he frowns at her question. The knife in his hand pauses for a moment. That is a tough question. “I don’t know if I like it or not. I don’t know how to.” He says before resuming to filleting. Charles is teaching him how to read but, as it turned out, Yohan is not exactly a great student. Something about a lack of motivation. He nods at her ‘nevermind’. He rarely minds. “It’s easy,” he says, fishing another one out of the tub. “You cut the head, just behind the fin, and just follows the backbone,” the knife moves unerringly, no hesitation in its path. Soon he has the head, the bone and the flesh separated. It’s the same principle, fish or people. If it is made out of flesh and bones, there are bound to be joints and seams. The metal simply enters there and disconnects. Easy. He flips the knife and hands the hilt to her, blade in his hand.

[onceuponamusing]

I’m sorry                   that I exist.

                                     IT WASN’T MY CHOICE.

[yohan-ernest]

charleskian·:

Yohan is a man of many silences, and Charles almost envies his ability to sit completely still, a mere statute instead of a man. Not enough to wish to follow the same path - surely nothing good could make a man so still. He offers a grin, shaking his head. With time, he’ll learn to read the man’s tells, or so he hopes. “How did you break a doorknob?” he wonders, though he shouldn’t. The inn isn’t in the best shape, even with the amount of people running in and out of it. Perhaps especially because of that. Charles enjoys it, even if it means some people complain about random broken things, like doorknobs. “If it is something from the attic once more, we can safely leave it. Couple spells will keep the oddities away,” he says with a shrug. “Oddities are humans, if Alina hasn’t yet told you about the term. Most would find it strange if we called them humans to their faces.” The inn’s history helps them hide, but only so much. He coined the term for the inn shortly after deciding to pick it up and make it his own. “Ah, I heard a banshee did some screaming a broke a couple of windows and startled several people. We are lucky no one died, and that oddities are more oblivious than they were some centuries ago. Young banshee, no serious injuries I am told.”

Yohan blinks at the question. His eyes shift to the side as he recalls the last night’s struggle with the door. It was one of the guest rooms, and he turned it as, you know, how people open doors. It didn’t open, so he pulled it several times. With force after that didn’t work out... Eventually he was victorious and the door was open, with the noble sacrifice of the doorknob. “I pulled and it fell off.” He gives a shrug before adding “it’s one of the guestrooms.” He did not know that Oddities meant humans-- he thought the name of the inn was... well, he didn’t have much thought on it, but it just sounds like the place is out of place or odd. “Noted... so don’t call them humans.” He says, although he wonders in what context he would call them humans... “Right. Banshee screams can be dangerous.” He notes. Dealing with banshees often involves incapacitating them before they can release the scream-- but not to a point where it would spill their blood. Always collect the blood. As a revenant, he is not worried about what banshees can do, but the lessons from the witch hunter is ingrained to his memories. He stares at Charles for a moment with no discernible expression before blurting out, “I don’t know about the previous centuries, but people seem to see what they want to see.” At least that is what he learned. People see nothing in an empty space because that makes their lives easier, simpler. They find a way to explain extraordinary in the realm of normalcy because that feels safe. Everyone has their own lens of reality. Yohan has one too-- he may completely overlook what people see, he does notice what they might miss.

[yohan-ernest]

alina-hennigar·:

Alina couldn’t help but find Yohan’s abrupt pause a little amusing. “Alina” she said with a smile, pointing a finger at herself. She didn’t really mind that he forgot her name, he didn’t need to know it for her to enjoy spending time with the revenant. To her, he was a walking, talking enigma, and as such, she found him quite interesting as all unknown things she wanted to get to know. “Uh, no” she said with a carefree shake of her head, her eyes already fixed on what Yohan was doing. “It empty out in the front desk and I got bored. And I already finished my book” she explained, setting her cane aside and resting her elbows on the counter across from him. The samodiva tended to devour books and on slow days like today even more so. She really should have brought a brand new book, not one with only three chapters left for her to finish it… That had been poorly planned from her part. “Don’t tell Charles I abandoned my post” she said with an amused tone, looking up at Yohan before she paid attention the fish once more. If she was needed at the front desk, the bell would be ringed. “Can I help with that?”.

“Right.” Yohan gives a simple, curt nod. He points himself with the free hand and goes, “Yohan.” There is no guarantee that he would remember her name-- but at least he knows her face, her voice and other indicators. That should be enough for now. He looks at her with faint traces of confusion. He knows what boredom is-- he just doesn’t know what it feels like, and how it would drive her to come talk to him without needing something. “You read books, a lot of them.” He remarks as a matter of fact, because most of the time when he passes the front desk, she is reading a book, and their covers tend to change at a rapid pace. He pulls out another fish from the tub. The knife comes down like a guillotine and beheads the fish, and begins to separate the bones from the flesh. “Why would I tell Charles?” He asks, weaving the blade through the fish. The fillet goes into the bowl and Yohan turns to her. “I don’t know. Can you?” He repeats her question, and flips the knife in his hand so the grip is now facing her. “How is your knife skill?” 

[yohan-ernest]

DATE: July 18 1920 TIME: 11:17 AM PLACE: the kitchen of Oddities Inn

A fish lies on the cutting board, its empty eye unmoving and dead. Yohan stares into it as if he is looking for a response. In his hand is a sharpened kitchen knife. It’s an ordinary utensil, nothing special, but he is spinning it in his hand as if it was a dagger. Knives and blades are one of the few tools he can handle. After measuring up the fish, Yohan cuts it open, bones clean off from the flesh, and skins it flawlessly. He tosses the fish into the bowl and it flops. At a footstep approaching, Yohan turns around with the knife still in his hand. “Hey--” and he tries to remember her name, but names are difficult. There just are too many names to remember. “...do you need something? The cook’s already told me to...” He gestures at the fish with the knife “handle them, but it shouldn’t take too long.”

@alina-hennigar​

[yohan-ernest]

evannaharper·:

Well, now she feels like a right arse. “Oh.” How was she meant to know that a fully grown man didn’t know how to read? Not that it’s horribly uncommon, but… well, maybe she shouldn’t be so defensive. Deflating some, Evanna sighs. “No. No, you don’t need a reason. Though I suppose, with the reading…” She looks back to the aisles she’d just wandered through with a sigh. “You’ll likely be needing some help navigating the store, won’t you? Right.” Adjusting the basket she’d been holding on her left arm to the right, the woman nods back in the direction she’d come from. “I’ve got some time to spare.” It’s true – she doesn’t go on until well into the evening. “I’d be happy to help if you’d like.” Consider it her service to the community – or at least the inn – for the day.

Yohan tilts his head to the side with a faint frown, his one eye squinting at her. “I’m not used to grocery shopping, yeah. And it would’ve been easier if they drew what I need to buy.” He says, flipping the list and staring at the words he can’t read. There are some alphabets he recognizes, but he is still struggling with what they are called and all the different sounds they make. It turns out, words are not written as they sound. At her offer of help, Yohan blinks again. “If it’d make you happy, sure. I could use some help with the list.” He nods. “Do you need me to carry anything? I can do that.” It’s one of the few things he can do without screwing up.

[yohan-ernest]

loganscoutures·:

Logan blinked in surprise, taking the money and glancing down at it. God, it would be easy to rob this man, not that he intended to. Did this guy have any clue how dangerous this stuff was? “Uh,” he said, glancing back at the list and pocketing the money for when they checked out. “Sure, uh, bread is first.” He glanced at the guy again with a small smile and held out his hand. “I’m Logan, by the way,” he said, figuring he might as well introduce himself if they were shopping together.

Yohan nods. He knows what bread looks like, so that should be relatively easy. He surveys the shop before noticing the hand reached out toward him. He stare at it for a moment, before grabbing at it awkwardly. He has seen handshakes before, and he does his best to imitate it. He doesn’t know what is the appropriate length of a shake, though, so he keeps on shaking until Logan pulls back. It takes him extra few seconds before remembering he has to introduce himself as well. “Right, You can call me Yohan.” He says. The name still feels odd rolling off his tongue. He strides toward the stand with all different sorts of bread... Why do people need all these bread? “Does it say what kind of bread? Or shape?” He asks, glaring at the bread. 

[yohan-ernest]

delphinebeauvais·:

He looks… perplexed. She would have expected more outrage than confusion, really, considering her laughter, but Delphine will take it. All’s well that ends well, anyway, and the incident is quickly forgotten when the origin of the gifts is divulged. “Oh! Delightful. My bon ami Charlie,” she croons, knowing full well the eye roll that the loathed nickname would receive if the name bearer was here. He isn’t, though, so it’s this fellow who she searches for a reaction from. And gets nothing. Intriguing man… He earns a tut of sympathy, anyway, at mentioning not knowing how to read. He isn’t the first she’s known to lack literacy, certainly, but still, she pities him. Not that she’s one to coddle. “I see. You liked the sign though, yes? I thought that the bit of shimmer to the paint was a nice touch.” Delphine practically beams, the smile growing larger at his agreement, no matter how lukewarm. “Oh, perfect! Well – hm. You do not mind my asking, I hope, but… are you one of the dead? If so, the tea evidently will not work, as you will not be drinking it… the cards, maybe? Or, well…” She could always just cut the act and appoint her only real bit of mediumship. The choice seems to point more in that direction thanks to his question, which makes Delphine sigh softly, draping herself across her chair. “Well, yes, in part. You see, I am one of the banshees, so… in truth, I mainly communicate with the spirits. The cards and the teas, they do sometimes help, but it is the spirits that surround a person that tell me most.” Her head tilts as she looks at her company closely. “Yours are not especially easy to read, I will admit, which happens often with the… already dead.”

‘Charlie’. It takes him a second, but Yohan connects the dots. She is probably talking about Charles. Nicknames are confusing. From what he can tell, a nickname gives new meanings to the name, or to whatever that bears the name. They color the name in a new light or in a different shade-- the same can be said to names in general. A name is a designation of meaning. He supposes, thus, Charles means something to this woman, since she is calling the man by another name. To Yohan, someone who is still getting used to having a name, that is quite curious. 

“It did sparkle.” Yohan notes flatly, nodding. He has no opinion on the aesthetic of the sign. He doubts that whether he liked it or not matters. “I don’t mind. I am quite dead.” He shrug nonchalantly. “I can still drink the tea, if you want. I’ll just throw it up later.” He offers, although he doesn’t see the point in getting the reading to begin with. He simply nods along at her explanation, although he is not entirely sure what she means. He knows what banshees can do, what they are capable of. But he rarely had a chance to talk to them. “Well, I’d be a boring read, anyway. Can’t see why spirits would surround me, unless they want revenge.” He remarks, looking around the room, wondering if he can see a spirit. “Do you have spirits surrounding you?”

[yohan-ernest]

friend: how are you

me: oh boy. Hah. Well. *takes a seat* wooowie. Well. *leans very far back in seat* Anyways how are you?

[yohan-ernest]

loganscoutures·:

Logan started in surprise as he was grabbed, turning to face the man with the list. “Uh, hold on, let me-” He took the list carefully, casting a slightly amused expression at the man before looking at the paper. His amusement wasn’t at his difficulty at all, rather the fact that the man had grabbed a stranger so suddenly. “Want some company? We could do the shopping together so you don’t have to memorize what I read you?”

Yohan, in all seriousness, stares at the other, hoping for learning what is written on the list. The offer confuses him. How is he supposed to know if he wants company or not? He also has no problem memorizing the entire list if it saves him from reading it. But his tendency to say ‘yes’ to everything without thinking gets the best of him. “Okay, then you should have these.” He says, before going through his pocket and handing the man crumpled balls of money and a few coins. “So what’s on the list, and where can I find them?” 

[yohan-ernest]

evannaharper·:

She’s prone to defensiveness, maybe. But who could blame her, after, well, everything? As for the list in her face, well, it may have been well received once, with a laugh, even. Nowadays, however, she reels back, giving the man a glare before lowering her hackles some. “Hmph.” No, just wants a list read. It doesn’t seem entirely malicious. Still, Evanna keeps her distance, taking a step back whilst her gaze stays on the list. “Right. Well, seems like the essentials to me… Eggs – quite a few of them. Bread. Coffee, cornmeal, sugar…” It’s only then that she catches herself and the glare returns. “If this is your attempt at making a pass, I can assure you it won’t work. After all, as I imagine you ken how to read, there’s hardly a reason to be speaking to me.”

Yohan flips the list back, memorizing the items she read. He doesn’t know what she means by ‘essentials’, but as long as he can find and buy them, it should be alright. His stare turns to her again, wondering if this is the kind of situation where he has to thank people. He blinks when she speaks up, though. “What do you mean?” He doesn’t know if he was making a pass since he doesn’t know what that means. Passing what? He thinks for a second, retracing his steps to figure out what is happening. “I... don’t know how to read. Does that count?” He shrugs, hoping that’s the right answer. “Do I need a reason to speak to you?” He asks, quite genuinely. He was under the impression that people can speak to one another without a reason or necessity. Silence is intolerable to some people, apparently.

[yohan-ernest]

benjaminstacy​:

He’s feeling childish. The urge to crudely imitate his petulant response I need to wash this, I need to wash this! He looks at the bed, while I’m still using it?? He would be having words with management about this that was for sure. With nothing else to do, one hand still occupied by the blankets at his waist; the other turns to his hair in yet another struggle to smooth down the wild strands. 

I tried to kill you…didn’t I?

He sighs, it’s terribly heavy. He supposed a normal John might take more offense, more panic to this but it was just so routine–and really, what normal John could say that?–that it didn’t really register anymore. Maybe he was too preoccupied with the fact that he was buck naked. On that note, he shuffles carefully towards the pile of his clothes; trying awful hard not to feel too much of a burn at his suit being treated as such. “Did a bangup job of it too, always flattering; really tugs at my heartstrings,” he bends at the waist to collect his discarded clothes, tossing them atop the unmade bed a little out of spite but also for necessity’s sake “When someone is so insulted, so inconvenienced by my being that they hire a professional assassin,” he drops the blankets with a sigh that could almost be considered wistful “Really makes me feel good.”

He’s writing it off. The ordeal had been, frankly, fucking terrifying at the time; and he hadn’t escaped fully unscathed. He’s got the scars that his carefully woven web of illusions couldn’t disguise forever, the lingering hurt in his bones that comes more and more with age and as the weather starts to go sour. “I’d think you were here to finish the job but,” he starts to tug his layers on, one by one–there’s a lot of them, it was a very expensive and very nice suit “I was asleep, you could have slit my throat.”

Oh how the mighty have fallen. 

He hooks his suspenders into his belt, they hang loose around his middle while he starts to shrug into his button up with a grimace–old hurts, old wounds was right. “Gotta say John,” he grins a wicked little thing “Don’t think the change of career suits ya’ well.”

Which also begged the question of…what the fuck?

Why was a very skilled contract killer doing here? And as the help at that? He continues to regard him with interest as he finishes buttoning up the shirt and tucks it into his slacks. “Well, you’ve almost killed me and you’ve seen me in the nude, I think I can honestly say I’ve not been this close with another soul in quite some time so I do gotta ask,” he slides his suspenders over his shoulders with a snap “What in tarnation brings a bloke like you, here?”

He lifts up his waistcoat and begins the ordeal of buttoning it up “I suppose the place has it’s charms. Especially for retirement. But, a young buck like you?” a laugh as he finishes and starts on his tie, the movements well practiced; a well oiled machine “Bit too young to be throwing in the hat so early, boyo.”

Yohan stares at the man, a subtle frown on his face as his processing speed can’t keep up with what is being said. He doesn’t understand how that is flattering or ‘tugs at heartstrings’... hearts do have strings, he supposes, or at least tendon-like... thingies. He doesn’t know what they are called. He just knows how hearts as an organ work, in a similar manner of how he knows where are vital points in a human body. But this is nothing new. He doesn’t understand great many things in life. 

“...I don’t follow.” He blurts out. “Are you saying you’re not angry?” Zora is a town full of preys he used to hunt. There aren’t many who recognize him personally, since he didn’t exactly leave many survivors. But he was warned that some would have grudge against him when he entered the town. He can’t say that he relates to their grudge or resentment, whatever it’s called, but he understands, at least conceptually. Survival instinct is one of the core emotions and drives of a living, breathing thing. It is natural and acceptable that they are angry and enraged toward whatever threatens their lives. It’s a defense mechanism. 

But this? This is new. 

“I am here to finish the job. Housekeeping.” He points at the cart. His eyes follow this unknowable man, as if staring would dissolve this confusion. ‘You could have slit my throat.’ He blinks. He looks back at the bed. “That would’ve ruined the bed.” It does occur to him a few seconds later that the man meant his old job-- if he could call it a job. “Ah, I see what you mean. I would have used pillows, in that case.” Leaves less of a mess. “But I don’t do that anymore.” 

Yohan wonders why the man keeps calling him ‘John’, but he supposes the name doesn’t matter. Instead, he just nods along. He doesn’t really have an opinion on his new job at the inn. According to Charles, he is learning, at the very least. 

And he learned a new thing today: almost killing a person and seeing them naked bring you close to them.

“Housekeeping,” he repeats with such honest simplicity, it sounds like he didn’t have to think two seconds about the question. He didn’t. Which reminds him-- he goes back to his odd approximation to cleaning. “What’s a retirement?” he asks as he picks up the pillows from the floor. He swats them as if he is trying to dust them, before putting them on the bed. He turns to the man, looking him dead in the eyes and goes “I’m not young. I’ve been dead for a while.” 

[yohan-ernest]

[yohan-ernest]

DATE: July 4 1920 TIME: 01:24 PM PLACE: a grocery store

Yohan stares at a piece of paper in his hand, standing like a maypole in the middle of an isle. One of the staff at the inn asked him to pick up some stuff from the grocer and Yohan being Yohan simply said 'okay’. The trouble is, they gave him this paper called a ‘grocery list’, which he rather aptly assumed as a list of items he needed to purchase... but they didn’t realize that Yohan doesn’t know how to read. So he has no choice but to grab a random person and asks, “hey, what does this say?” He holds up the grocery list to their face while his eyes stare into theirs without blinking.