![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
THE ROSE WITCH - SOLOMON
[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.]
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.]
no subject
Oh, you did a fine job. I do applaud you for it, even if it didn't stick, but you see, because you did this for me, you were trapped here.
[ He straightens up again and offers Solomon a shrug. ]
Thus, I feel obligated to see if I can't drag you out of here all the same. Do not mistake this for an emotional connection; it is merely one sorcerer owing a debt to another.
Cw: suicidal ideation
The boy listens silently, turning dull eyes to Amon as he explains
before bursting into laughter.]
Oh, Amon. Surely you don't feel guilty?
I wanted my wish, and you wanted to be dead. Whatever agreement we had ended there.
The people sent me to my fate when they decided your desire didn't deserve to be kept no matter the excuse. They deemed me the Witch and stole my wish from me. Not you.
cw: suicidal ideation con't.
[ Does it? No. Surely not. He's just annoyed that Solomon being stuck here was a snag in what would have been a perfect escape. That has to be it. He strolls over to the child, joining him at the edge of the cliff. ]
No one was ever getting a wish out of this place, Solomon. We agreed to that deal because it made it simple to decide who the final death would be, not because you wanted anything out of it.
[ Fandaniel was expendable in the end, a man wanting to die, needing to die, even in the face of the people who tried to convince him otherwise. ]
Have you really not regained a lick of your senses after all this time?
cw: suicidal ideation con't.
[He snorts a little, continuing to pick thorns from the stem. Now that Amon is seated, he can watch the boy toss the thorns one by one into the blackened pit of the chasm below.
Staring too long into the black, you'd think the space might very well be breathing for how it seems to twist.]
It's in Father's Edicts. Escape with a kill and he will acknowledge you with his Beatitudes. And He is very, very thorough about his Edicts, Amon. Very thorough.
[He hums, adjusting the petals just slightly, leaving red fingerprinted smudges behind.]
But I guess what we remember as failures or victories doesn't change where we are, does it? You're here again. So am I.
And you probably don't want to die again, or you'd be trying harder.
no subject
[ If only. ]
Maybe you would actually say something sensible then. Tell me, Solomon, how many of your little Troupes have actually gotten away with a Beatitude from Father?
no subject
[There's a strain to his smile as he admits as much.]
You could try to attack me, if it'd make you feel better. But this body isn't really me, you know.
[He tosses the rose over the side, quiet as he watches it float down. The rose slowly spackles with black, quickly swallowed by the dark.]
Father doesn't want me to see the light, no matter where I end up.
no subject
Then I suppose I will just have to get to your real body and do it.
no subject
[Light, as though not expecting a true answer.]
Would you try to kill me, like we tried to kill Sika? Father hasn't forgotten about that, you know.
no subject
[ Does he share them? Of course not. Solomon should be considered as much of a threat as Sika Madu had been, no matter what kind of aid he suspiciously offers. Funny enough, that Fandaniel would return here at all, but would he really fall for the same nonsense a second time?
Well...
It would depend, but share what's on his mind? No. ]
What of you? You can't want to remain here. You must have some scheme or another in the works. You already mentioned wanted as many of us alive as possible.
Cw:plant gore
[He lifts his hand to his neck to let another rose grow freely from the inky skin underneath, the thorns ripping up through flesh with ease as red starts to trail upwards through the blue of the water, disappating. Unlike the previous time, the boy can't hide the pain that drifts across his face, visibly bracing himself through it before covering the skin back up and proceeding to pluck the thorns again, as before. One by one, into the abyss.]
Anyway... that's right. I want my freedom. I'm a prisoner just like the Troupe.
The more of the Troupe that can be kept from becoming Extras, the more room we have to make a Key. We can't leave without it.
I have to get started right away, though. A Key needs suffering. And you'll all start forgetting soon. The more you forget, the less I can do, and the more He'll take hold instead.
no subject
Yes. I have noticed that, and not simply because of your annoying little Ibuki's bell.
[ He'll know better than to mention such memories around that creature again. What a bother it will be. ]
So why not remember for me? I know it is within your power. Sika Madu sorted through my memories as if they were nothing more than a book for them to page through. You can see it all.
[ Most preferably, the parts where Sika Madu altered him, before that fades, before the sheep comes back to steal the rest, but also... Xande. He worries he'll lose him the most, for he has lived a long life, but his time as Amon was, in theory, first, or just after what Hermes had wrought upon their shared soul, in any case. ]
no subject
A pause. He laughs, but it's quiet and humorless.]
That's a dangerous thing to ask, Amon. I know a lot about many different versions of you. But we're not the same, Sika and I.
[...
He exhales in a stream of bubbles, looking at where Amon has touched him rather than meeting his face.]
Did the sheep do something to you already?
[Sika's curse will be foggy in his memory - if he concentrates, he will notice it does not stop at just himself. The details of Sika's twisting words for Solomon will also feel muddy.]
no subject
[ He does let go of Solomon's hand, but instead turns his hand over, offering it to him instead. ]
I believe several others here recall as well, though I fear to name them, in case it targets that same memory in them next. If nothing else, I wish to share what I can with you before it is gone.
no subject
There's a deep rumbling sound beneath their feet. A flicker of discomfort across the boy's face. With a rippling pressure, the branching roses growing from the seabed seem to twist up higher.
...
Another exhale, like a scoff with no energy. Another stream of bubbles.]
Why would I need anything like that from you? [Quiet.]
Do you think this is the first time you're assured me, Amon? Things I've memorized from your heart, seeing you over and over?
Am I not forced to remember enough as it is?
no subject
Then only our time here as a Troupe, before, if you are so weak that you cannot handle another me in your memories wholly. You have no interest in what Father's woolly little toy is trying to erase so soon into his new round of torment?
no subject
[...
...
He looks away from the outstretched hand, fiddling once again with the rose. Brow still knit tight. Unhappy.]
If Ibuki changed something, it's probably to keep Father's game on track. They had no problem saying as much, back when they could still talk.
I don't know if I care what's been lost. It's a part of the disappearing smudge that is you. So it's your heart you need to worry about. [...] But I'd like to know why you realize you've been messed with, and why you think it concerns me.
no subject
Still here because you are a coward, then. I see. [ He withdraws his hand with a shrug. ] It is exactly that, something that could, perhaps, overturn it, but you will not even try.
[ Disappointed, Solomon. He's disappointed. As if the man's suffering means anything. Had Fandaniel not suffered all those years? Forced to wait thousands until he was free to make his move? Even if, in the end, he had reconsidered... ]
I realize it because it happened whilst speaking with you about what you have lost. Ibuki does not want me imparting this to you.
1/2
He says nothing, waiting for Amon to finish. All he does is exhale - a single insignificant motion that sets the very water around Amon to twist like a rope against his neck, stealing his ability to breathe.
The magic around the boy can practically be tasted.]
Why do you never understand, Amon. You, of all people. Never never never.
Do not make me show you what I can do.
2/2
Right as Amon is about to pass out, Solomon breaks his attention and the water immediately releases him to breathe again. The boy idly picks at the rose once more, tossing the thorns back into the abyss.]
I know you can be more specific than that, Amon. I don't remember us ever talking about me, so I think you might have something backwards.
no subject
Ha.
[ He sucks air in greedily once the water releases him and lets his eyes open slowly. Breathing, he'll focus on breathing for a moment, and he realizes he's collapsed to the ground after the fact. Similarly slow, he pushes himself back up to sit with a weak laugh. ]
...then it would seem Ibuki's bell meddled with your memory as well. Really, Solomon, what is there to lose...? To pick through the mind of one more Amon...?
no subject
[Still, his lips thin as he finally glances properly at Amon. Thinking, hard, as though trying to recollect and coming up disturbingly empty.
This feels familiar. This sense of de-ja-vu. Why can't he pin it down like the rest?]
...
I was never against that part, you know. [He sits up straight.] But maybe the details would dull you too much.
Fine. I'm listening.
no subject
Oh, never. I do love the details.
[ He is, after all, a man of science, no matter what else he has been or will be or currently is, but! The memory. At least he's willing to listen. ]
But since I have your ear now... They were trying to erase the memory I have of what Sika Madu did to you to get the key. They turned you into a villain suitable to be the Witch, but you were never that to begin with. They filled you with the black roses, the one who made you suffer, thinking you had become a monster, when, truly, you were the opposite. They...
[ They... changed him. Specific things. It's difficult to recall now, and that annoys Fandaniel. How long will he hang onto even those bare details? ]
...did quite a lot, though, as I said, that sheep is trying to wipe the details of it from me. That said, the key they pulled from you did not quite work. We had to force the doors open the rest of the way ourselves.
no subject
This again, hm.]
I remember that much.
I killed you, and was voted guilty in the eyes of the Troupe. Sika planted in me their seedbed, setting in me the same path of agony they'd grown numb to, and appointed me the role of the Witch. For only truly exquisite suffering can birth a Witch's Key.
I remember they pulled the extra keys from the rest of their contractors. That Mikaela intervened, and Sika died. That we tried to revive the chorus.
And then the angels took me.
...
Well. You remember the rest from your side of the door, I hope? [His smile is slight.] Forgive me if I don't want to hear about your happiness since then.
no subject
[ If he could get his hands on a few, wouldn't that be nice? Still, a scoff. ]
Yes, yes, you remember all of that, but the important part is you are not the Witch, nor was the suffering they grew within you any kind of truth. You are no monster, Solomon. No hero, either, but certainly not what you've been made into.
[ He won't bother with his life beyond the door. That part, even he isn't cruel enough to enthuse about. It's merely... a life, but even that, Solomon has lost. ]
no subject
Another rumble, deep below them.
The roses start to grow even taller. The water shades, falling darker.]
First you insist that I never meant to kill you for a wish, and now you're saying I'm no monster?
Spare me.
You all argued enough in the back of that limousine. Long and loud and unapologetic about exactly the type of thing you thought I was. Walking back your words won't change things. Even the delusional who spat out nothing but vapid kindness still turned their backs when the doors closed.
I expected better from you, Amon. Honesty, at least.