THE ROSE WITCH - SOLOMON

[impacter]

[You're not sure when you received the envelope.

It slides into your belongings when you're not looking. Small, quaint, the seal of a rose in blue rather than red.

The same rose as before. The same request as before.

The writing is done by hand. But the pen seems unsteady.

---

Would you tell me?

Tell me, please, what would you give for a wish?

Dear Troupe, are you like all the rest? Or are you different now? Were you ever different? Will you ever be different?

Can you find a path forward when the world says you can only go left or right?

Show me. Find me. I want to build a path together.

Okay?]

-------------------------------------

[For those of you who have known of the tower, you know when you last heard from its Witch. The doors, forced open, but one left behind. Coated in black roses. Unable to be freed, unable to progress. And as the way of escape closed to the rainbow roads leading into the stars, only the Witch was left behind. Only the Witch, always the Witch, smothered until nothing was left but petals of black in the silent creaking of doors.

---

If your character follows the written note, they will find their entry much the same as before. The subway greets them like a stranger, though they find their space occupied now. Filled with shadowy silhouettes. They are not like the Extras. They do not talk, they do not interact. They do not see you.

You are you. The rest are the rest.

And even before you step into the halls of the tower, there is an odd malaise that settles over you. An odd sense of separation, as though every way you look, there is glass between yourself and your surroundings. The roses are no longer red, but a deep, deep blue. Blue, blue, blue, like

the bottom of the ocean






All school roles are the same, and Extras still wander the halls, though they seem far more like apparitions. Though you can speak to Extras, and they will interact to you if prompted, you find you cannot touch them. You find their gossip is far more muted. They still speak of you, but they never seem to notice you're standing right there. They do realize it's you they're talking about, right?

Right?

--

The longer your character stays in the school, multiple things will start to happen:
- They will feel a deep loneliness sinking into their bones. Interacting with others will alleviate it slightly, but it will take effort to feel like a team. The longer they are there, the harder it is to fight.
- All characters have their memories intact on arrival, but it seems for every day spent, random memories from their past start to shed away. The oldest are at the most risk. The details grow fuzzier and fuzzier. What was important to you once? What is important to you now? Will you remember, from day to day? Does it matter?

Your character may recognize others from their previous troupe, or they may be surrounded by strangers. The school's layout has not changed much, outside some key exceptions:

- The go-karts are missing entirely. The room has been replaced with an observatory similar to the one once found in the chapel. The constellations change every time you look into the skybox, but are never quite familiar enough. At random points in the day, you might see the sky in the observatory flicker to a brilliantly unnatural white, or to a deep and unforgiving purple, before returning to normal. Sorry about your eyes.
- The chapel is back to the way it had originally started. It does not change. If you stay too long, the windows that show your sins will start to move for everyone in the space, and you can swear you hear voices calling from the glass, echoing the sounds of your memories.
- Reading through the library, you will find that in many books, regardless of subject or location, you find stories about yourself. Details stripped and greatly exaggerated, if you didn't remember yourself so well it would seem like a cruel joke. But every story you find in succession seems to twist more and more, further and further into something monstrous, filled with malice and fear. The Extras gossip will change to match the stories found in the Library, no matter how cruel they turn.
- Spending too much time near or inside the pool will have a negative effect. It may start as general unease, slowly increasing to a mental and physical pain that's hard to place, as though an unfathomable weight is pressing against you on all sides. You will have an urge to run as far as possible, to the nearest available light source, where you must stay for the effect to diminish.
- Every ingredient in the kitchen is unrecognizable. You will have to trial and error your way through your cooking.
- The elevator to the Backrooms will take you down, but every hallway loops in on itself. Waterfalls flip upside down, walkways that were dry one moment are wet the next. Disorienting, frustrating, and leading nowhere. Every once in a while, a star can be found grooved into the tiles, as though something might fit. Maybe it's just decoration.

---

The rules of your engagement for Father are presented, not by your Dramaturge, but by a sheep. A bell around its neck and a pink ribbon tied to one horn, it seems to always be roaming around the school, and its bell is all you hear when it herds you into the chapel. Staring, as a sheep does, unable to talk, as the same set of rules descends in writing to plaster permanently into the main altar area. There is no one there to answer your questions this time (the sheep certainly isn't going to!), though perhaps you might be kind enough to explain to the panicked strangers among your midst.

It is only when you leave the chapel that your phone pings. A username only called STAR.]

Oh no!

I missed everyone again?? I'm really sorry.

I hope Father wasn't too mad. He's good at that.

But don't worry! I'll find a way to meet all of you. :)

Why don't you tell me your favorite spot, and I'll come find you? You're probably confused. Unless you're certain people who aren't!

Isn't it interesting that way? I wonder if they remember why they remember! I wonder if they'll tell. Or will we pinky promise to take it to our graves?

Anyway! You're not gonna be able to respond, but you can tell Ibuki, and Ibuki will tell me, okay?

They remember a lot for being a sheep. But maybe it's better to ask a sheep than to ask a person!

:)

-☆

----

[OOC: Please use this as an AU space for Rose Witch!Solomon. I'm sorry in advance. You may prompt however you'd like, or you can come DM me on discord if you want something a little more unique. I will treat everyone as the same Troupe instance unless you specifically request to be alone in a separate Troupe.]

Comments

meet me at the piano u b

[trollophoroi]

[ Funny that he would take this chance again, as Fandaniel — or Amon, which he has fallen back into using out there among Char's stars — cannot think of any wish he could possibly desire. Perhaps, then, it is boredom that drew him, or even some worrisome desire to seek him out, that fool, the one he had doomed to this fate by his own request.

It was not guilt by any stretch. It was more so that it felt like a debt owed, one sorcerer to another, although he once again finds himself without any of his magic. It is some luck that he no longer needs it to make his body function properly, for where Solomon came out of the deal doomed, Amon came out of it alive, when he was meant to be dead.

Alive and somewhat changed. Hair a dark grey-green and grown out by now, braided loosely and long enough to let sit over one shoulder, and eyes a sharp sea green, marking what was what Asahi's body as truly Amon's now. Now he stands in that same practice room with that same piano, dressed once again in his prim and proper teacher's outfit, wondering if it might not end up covered in blood once more. Only this time he carries no knife nor any scalpel, nor any other weapon of the sort.

He had tried to stab Sika Madu once. It had not gone well.

He does not expect stabbing Solomon to go over any better these days.

But yes, here he is, waiting at the piano, and it's humorous enough to him to be the one taking the seat at its bench and idly plinking away at a few keys. He isn't unknowledgeable of the instrument, of course. He is, after all, Amon the Prodigy. Ah, but it never did quite hold his attention like so many other disciplines. Still, enough comes back to him to let him begin to play something simple and classical enough, at least by Allagan standards, while he waits for the inevitable. ]

[impacter]

[His little melody plinks its way through the walls, echoing off the familiar walls of white.

In response, Amon will hear a bell. It sounds like the sheep, because congratulations, it IS the sheep! How did they get through the door. Who knows, but they're here now.

They trot lazily, right up the the bench, but wait in silence until Amon drifts to a stop. Only then will Amon's phone will ping.]

You're awfully good at that, Teacher.

Where did you learn?

[trollophoroi]

[ Ibuki...

Only some fake, like Mikaela had been? Made to placate Solomon? He wonders.

Amon gazes down at the little sheep once his tune has come to an end, fading off against the soundproofed walls, before bothering to glance at his phone. This wasn't who he was expecting, although maybe he should not have been so hopeful about him making an appearance. ]

Mm, where indeed. I fear I never made much note of my teachers from so long ago, so while the motions remain, the how and why have faded, and not due to this place's nasty little curse, either.

[impacter]

That's kind of sad, but I guess it's gotta happen.

You can't remember everything.

I wonder if it's even better to forget sometimes.

[A pause.]

Did you wanna be left alone, Teacher?

I'd love to watch you play, if you'd let me. :)

[trollophoroi]

[ Now what would happen if he squeezed the life out of this little lamb? Ah, but what a thought. Surely that isn't him anymore, is it? Even so, he considers it, then sets it aside for now, and instead moves over on the bench and gestures for Ibuki to join him. ]

Stay if you wish, but beware. I am no master musician.

[ Although for the rest... ]

If I once knew more than I recall now, it was not important enough to remember. Memory can be like that. There are many things you must remember, but not all memories are core to who you are, and for someone as old as I, that is many memories indeed.

[liliaofthevalley]

[Here we go again.

Lilia isn't exactly thrilled to be back here, and it shows in the way he stares for a long, long moment at the blue ring gracing his finger. But eventually, he does get a move on.

He's still considered a student, of course. Why wouldn't he?]

Ibuki, was it...?

in absence of a location the sheep is now picking one for us

[impacter]

[The sheep looks up towards Lilia. It blinks one eye, and then the other, as its jaw chews slowly with the slight ring of its bell.

In absence of an answer, it merely locks eye contact with Lilia. Just long enough to be uncomfortable, before it starts trotting off towards the kitchen.]

[liliaofthevalley]

Ah, hello little one.

[Seemingly unpreturbed by the staring, he'll go ahead and follow it to the kitchen! The meaning isn't lost on him, but he acts so airy you'd be forgiven for assuming ignorance.]

[impacter]

[Though the setup of the kitchen is exactly the same, Lilia will find that every cupboard is filled to the brim with ingredients that look like nothing he's ever seen before, labelled with a language he's never read. The appliances basically function, but all indicators of time and temperature feel alien.

The sheep trots to a random spot on the floor and immediately flops over, staring at nothing with a rattling ring of its bell.

Lilia's phone will ping. It's STAR.]

I had to kinda make a guess.

Ibuki's not really good at talking anymore.

[liliaofthevalley]

[Thanks for noting all of that, how exciting for good Lilias done nothing wrong about to give everyone food poisoning!]

No? And why not?

pvp me on the roof

[dokudoku]

[ He has received several letters in the past while, strange as that sounds. Bills, for the small apartments they've all shoved themselves into. Acceptances, for some of them, for Yugamu himself. Junk, mundane little things that seem so horribly domestic for a group of ex-warmongers. The seal of a rose comes in the midst of a week of studying, nestled among the textbooks and notes that make up his small desk. The thought to get rid of it is what springs to mind first, because—

Yugamu hasn't killed in years. The only deaths he deals with are those in his textbooks, on the news, on the cadavers they practice on. His infuser sits in a desk drawer, something he stares at now and then before locking it up tight, letting the metal gather dust. The only blades in his hands now are cooking knives and scalpels.

And yet, as Yugamu's feet trek familiar paths wearing that familiar princely uniform, that weight is at his side again. For a moment, he's 17 again, feet taking him this way once again with the heavy weight of a condemnation weighing on his shoulders. The parking garage is as desolate as it always is, even moreso now, and the sense of nostalgia it brings is tinged with the same sense of melancholy the graves outside the academy had.

Four names to carry then, only to add another to the pile. The fact the last is not quite a death does little to ease the discomfort. When he passes the blue, so deep you could drown, something coils tight around his ribcage and seeps through the bone. Pressure, steadily rising, like sinking further into the water.

The roof is quiet and bright. The skybox flickers. The sheep had asked for a favorite spot, and he provided.

All he can do now is wait, he supposes. He sits on the edge, not quite looking at the sun, but not quite looking at the entrance, either; looking out into the faux horizon like it'd tell him something he actually wants to hear. ]

i run fast with a million knives

[impacter]

[As Yugamu stares off into the horizon, he'll hear the sound of a bell. The second his eyes drift, he will see the sheep. How did it get here? It's a mystery. But it trots slowly to a nearby wall, where it promptly plops into the ground, staring at nothing in particular.

Yugamu's flip phone will ping. It's STAR.]

What a lonely place you picked.

How come?

[dokudoku]

[ The sheep receives nothing but a scrutinizing eye; Yugamu may have grown a little older, settled into an odd sense of domesticity, but instincts never really die. There's something cold in that gaze, even as his phone pings and his gaze slides down as he flicks it open with one sharpened thumb.

He figures he need not type to answer, with this thing here. ]

What can I say? This place has some fond memories for me, after all. [ Changed as he is, he is still Yugamu Omokage. ] I had a wonderful dance here, once, y'know? Spilling each other's blood on the pavement, that heart-throbbing clash of blades while riding on bloodlust...I almost miss it.

[ The fact he has to explain, though....his fingers twitch. They itch with the familiar, if faint, urge to wrap his fingers around a hilt. If he cuts this one open, how would his newfound host react? Would it jog a memory, spark an anger he forgot he had?

Well. They can wait and see. ]

[impacter]

You remember this time, huh?

It sounds like lots of stuff has changed, though.

Maybe sometimes it's better to forget?

[dokudoku]

I like to think I'm pretty meticulous, man. I never forget an attempted kill.

[ And how could he forget, really, everything that happened here? The emotions, the tragedy, the tension.

The feeling of Solomon's blood seeping through his fingers, metal in flesh on a chapel floor. ]

And maybe it is, for some people. But I've already decided to carry my burdens with me, and it's a little late to shuck off them just to feel better about myself.

for yugamu we're hijacking the post; cw for blood ofc

[trollophoroi]

[ And once more, Fandaniel is in the infirmary. So it goes, only this time, rather than an unexpected neck biting, he managed to rile up some unknown who had come in with the rest of the Troupe; not someone he recognized from the previous group, thus far less forgiving of the former ascian's antics.

He's pushed his braid aside as he works, yet again, at fixing himself up. It's as if nothing has changed at all! With him staring intently in the infirmary's little mirror as he stitches up a cut along the cheekbone. This time, his blood is fresh and red, and he grimaces at each stab of the needle, at each tug of the flesh, the pain now brighter and sharper than it had been in the past, during his first run of this wretched tower. Being actually alive certainly is a drag at times, although he can't quite claim the cons outweigh those of being a barely functional body run by magic. ]

...at least now I know who cannot possibly take a joke.

[ A sigh, overly dramatic as always, though to himself alone, or so he thinks, anyway. ]

yeehaw!!

[dokudoku]

[ Old habits die hard for everyone, it seems.

Even if he doesn't plan to let things go as they will, Yugamu still finds it an old habit to shuffle to where he can find what he's looking for. The costumerie first, for the classics; the needles, thread. Then comes the infirmary, for the rest.

In the same vein of old habits die hard, his steps are woefully silent, as is the slide of the door. Entering places like a ghost is something that still causes his teammates ire, especially early in the mornings....and upon seeing a familiar figure, however changed, it brings that familiar grin to his face. If he gets a few steps in without being noticed, all the better. ]

Already getting yourself into trouble, Sensei? [ Perhaps the term is more teasing now, even if he's back to wearing that old uniform. Look at them both, growing their hair out. ] And here I thought you were going to try and behave yourself. Not that I think it's a bad look for you...

[ Doesn't this bring back memories, however strange? An infirmary, Fandaniel fixing himself up, some unwanted(?) watchers...it's almost like they never left. ]

[trollophoroi]

[ Could be he's losing his touch to let Yugamu come lurking up on him like that, because while he doesn't get a jump out of Fandaniel, he does get a pause, a sudden freeze, then a slow turn of the head to watch him from the corner of an eye. If nothing else, a familiar face is comforting, and whatever brief tenseness to him there was drains away quickly enough. ]

Oh, you know me. [ He turns back to the mirror, continuing his delicate work, but not without an amused little hum and smirk playing at the corner of his lips. ] When can I ever keep my mouth shut?

[ Ha, not a bad look? ]

You think? It is in the perfect spot to form a dashing sort of scar, isn't it?

[dokudoku]

[ Ah, there's that satisfying reaction. It's small, barely there for most people, but for Yugamu's trained eye, it just widens the grin on his face. A little more teeth, although it feels less like a mask than it might have back in the early days.

The tension leaking from Fandaniel's shoulders is the go-ahead he gets to make his leisurely way across the room, partly to admire the other man's handiwork, partly just to see it up close. He really has never lost his less than savory tastes, even as the years have gone by. ]

True, but that's what's charming about you. [ And he means it, of course. ] You wouldn't be as much fun if you didn't have that tongue.

[ No, not a bad one at all. He lifts a hand to his chin, faux contemplative. ]

I think it would...but shamefully, I might get a bit jealous if you went around cheating on me with other scars before I got a chance to give you your old one back.

[trollophoroi]

[ Small, neat stitches, tight and close to the skin despite the substandard material in use. He's about done with it, only really needing to tie them off, but now that a second pair of hands has arrived, Fandaniel does something he refused to do the first time they met in this infirmary, years ago. ]

Alas, his knife had been unexpected. Typically, one does not resort to such base violence at the first brush with my wit. [ By the second, sure, but the first? Really jumping the gun there. ] I did not mean to crush your poor heart by letting another man cut me first.

[ Oh, but he sounds so amused by the thought. Someone wishing to claim first injury, rather than first kiss, or touch. Yugamu truly is unique among the masses of humanity, and that alone is why he'll offer— ]

Would you finish this up for me? The last step is always so bothersome in a mirror. [ Everything is reversed. Awful. ] Though if it breaks your heart to think of me bearing a scar not from you, I can certainly try and minimize this one.

the pool...

[ohrlyeh]

[Here again. Bound again. This time, he accepted because he wanted to. This irritable mage. A fool. A man who thought he could bear the weight of it all on his own.]

[Again, the weight of playing human is unbearable. He trudges along through the familiar corridors, shies away from the shadows. He finds a place that he once loved - the pool. Serene. Lovely. A shadow of the ocean, but...]

[What....is this feeling?]

[His skin feels like its boiling. Even as he moves, his bones - or what little he has made in semblance of them - are cracking. He's trying to fight the fear physically - stubborn to the extremes.]

[He aims a dour glance at the walls around him.]

Even your fears are leaking into such things. Solomon. How pathetic.

[impacter]

[Into the pool area trots the sheep with the dinging of the bell around its neck. Staring down into the waters, apparently unaffected and uncaring of the discomfort Lovecraft now puts himself in.

Lovecraft's phone will ping. It's STAR.]

You remember my name this time, huh.

Why are you in here?

[ohrlyeh]

Urgh...

[It's an effort just to pull out his phone. He aims a glance at the sheep, before texting.]

I like the water. Unlike you.

[impacter]

[The sheep stares back, impassive, before flopping onto its side on the tile with a wet plop. This is where it lives now, apparently.]

That's mean. It's not like I asked to hate it.

I guess you can drive yourself mad if you want to. But I'm not gonna be able to free you if you do that again. :(

[ohrlyeh]

Free me...

[He really is just being petty, aggravated by being kept away from his favorite thing.]

Is the sheep you?