[open + closed]

[thereneverwas]

WHO: Barrow, Benedict, Brother Gideon, Bfifi, Bmado, you??
WHAT: June catch-all
WHEN: Justinianish
WHERE: around and about the Gallows
NOTES: Individual character starters below, hit me up if you want something specific.

Comments

Brother Gideon

[venenifer]

I. In the wee hours of the morning, a flickering light from beneath the infirmary door indicates that despite the current lack of inpatients, someone is still up and about.
Startled by someone's entrance, it's apparent enough that Gideon was simply concentrating on the concoction in process before him on the table. Several of the reagents have been brought down from the potion rack and set immaculately about his workspace, one of which he is still holding with a pair of wooden tongs as he turns to look over his shoulder.
"Hello."
He does not sound happy to see whomever has disturbed him, but that's hardly out of the ordinary.

II. Occasionally, when most people are at table or asleep, Brother Gideon can be found pacing the hall outside the infirmary and muttering to himself. On closer inspection, he is holding scraps of parchment that contain his own handwriting-- and on closer listening, it would seem he's practicing a sermon, feverishly reading and rereading the lines, occasionally pausing to press the parchment against the wall and scratch something out or write in the margins.

Public speaking doesn't come naturally to everyone.

III. For at least one meal a day, the Brother makes himself available by sitting alone at a table with his notes. Though he's hardly got the friendliest face, he at least makes the effort to communicate that he is here for interaction by occasionally glancing up to meet eyes with passersby.
Theology, morality, herbalism, the weather: any discussion is open, as long as it's conducted respectfully.

IV. Wildcard

I

[nonvenomous]

“Good morning.”

The light aside, Richard Dickerson looks surprised to see someone in here working at this hour, with no sign of Sawbones and no patients, besides.

But he pauses only briefly in the doorframe, and leaves it open behind him in silent signal that he doesn’t intend to stay. Hard to say if he’s been awake all night or has only just roused from slumber: he looks tired either way, scruffy and loose-dressed in an unlaced tunic and rolled trousers and bare feet. His interest in what Gideon is up to is sidelong and distinct on his way to a corner cabinet, where seed husks and oils and various other digestive aids are kept.

He drops his open satchel on a table once he gets there, and sets to rifling.

[venenifer]

Not everything in the cabinets belongs to Gideon, but he does catalogue them carefully, and there's a small spike of anxiety when someone-- he knows his name, but can't immediately recall it-- begins to rifle through them.

"Is there something I can help you find?"

There's an intensity behind the question that takes it beyond helpful. Don't touch that.

[nonvenomous]

Having drawn down a jar or pot or satchel of grainy husks, Dick Dickerson pauses with it in his hands, his eyes cool in their consideration of Brother Gideon in the lamplight. He is already touching it, this strange balding man in the wee hours, rifling through the infirmary stores like a particularly bold raccoon.

“No.”

There’s a soft thunk when he places it down on the same surface, his far hand already well on its way to shaking an empty pouch out of his satchel.

[venenifer]

If Dick is a raccoon, Gideon is an opossum, an equally odd little creature of the night who goes similarly still and meets his gaze squarely.

"Mark down what you're taking, please," he says quietly, too politely, his eyes never leaving Richard's.

[nonvenomous]

He pauses again, a prickle of tension coiled taut up the spring of his spine.

...

“Of course.”

He flops the pouch open, busies himself with scooping from pot to pouch, careful not to spill. He cinches the pouch closed before moving on to a bottle of oil and a vial, tipped lip to lip. For someone rarely seen here since Gideon’s arrival, he seems well-acquainted with what lies where.

“Where would you like me to make my mark?”

[venenifer]

It's at least slightly reassuring, knowing nothing will be spilled or wasted. It would be, at least, if Brother Gideon were the type to be reassured.
Remaining very still all the while, he turns to slide a leatherbound book from one end of the worktable to the other, which he then flips open to the appropriate page. Eyes flitting from Dick's chosen reagents to their entries, he points wordlessly at one line and then the other.

[nonvenomous]

Vial corked, pouch tucked away and sources replaced in their cabinet, Richard produces a pencil from his satchel and moves in to comply as directed.

On the first line indicated, he sketches the approximate weight of husks taken in tidy print.

On the second, he writes, Get fucked, measures Brother Gideon a little too directly next to him, and adds, Mage Tower, F4 RA. He closes the book himself, sharply, that same hand left flat over the cover while he shoulders his satchel to depart.

“Thank you for your assistance.”

[venenifer]

Sliding the book back toward where it came from, Gideon puts it away. Then, when Richard has left the room, he slides it back in front of himself again and opens it to look at the entry.

ii

[fairforce]

"What are you working on?"

Lady Seeker Theophania Hart is dressed comfortably, a soft loose tunic and linen trousers, and leather shoes that are quieter than the boots she usually favors. She is happiest when she's industrious. Right now she's bearing an armload of towels, an easy burden to manage while she stops for a conversation.

She gives Brother Gideon a friendly smile to make up for her lack of greeting.

[venenifer]

He turns quickly, pinning Tiffany with a gaze that's torn between surprise and outrage-- and then it relaxes, but only in such a way that the harshness is dulled. There's still little warmth to be found.

"...preparing for our Darktown endeavor," he mutters, looking down at his notes and then quickly stuffing them into the front pocket of his robe, "I have reason to understand they will be a harder sell than the Lowtowners."

[fairforce]

Undeterred by either gaze, Tiffany maintains both her friendliness and her slight smile. The topic at least manages to diminish her smile just a touch, as a contemplative air comes over her

"I'm sure they will be. Darktown is a difficult place. What sort of approach are you thinking?"

[venenifer]

"Careful."

It's met with a faint, humorless smirk as he shakes his head to the floor, "I admit I've never been. I will likely ask Sister Sawbones to accompany me again, as she seems to have an ease in such places."

[fairforce]

Tiffany huffs a little laugh at that, and shakes a finger at Brother Gideon. Smart.

"I'd imagine her to be an excellent choice for that assignment. She has wits and strength enough to shame any soldier. She'll be a good right hand. If you want extra security, I'd be happy to come along, but I wouldn't want to get in the way."

[venenifer]

"Your presence would be welcomed." Gideon looks at her levelly, glancing over Tiffany's general frame before meeting her eyes again.

"I would guess your presence was enough to deter any incidents at our Lowtown gathering."

[fairforce]

Tiffany makes a modest little gesture. There's probably some truth there, but far be it from her to boast about herself.

"We hardly could have looked a threat or a tempting target that day. There isn't much money in pancakes, and we weren't jingling our purses and talking loudly about our charity. Just reading the Chant and doing our best to make small differences. Darktown will, I'm sure, be very different. But I would be happy to come along. I'll wear armor with my friendly smile."

[venenifer]

"Good."

It's laughable, he can't help but think, to pal around with this sunny Seeker-- he'd never have imagined finding himself in the presence of a person like her, in Riftwatch or otherwise.

"I'll let you know when it's scheduled."