mallow_logs | [Closed] Welcome he who walks with Death.

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[Closed] Welcome he who walks with Death.

Who: Victor Van Dort (

forgotten_vows) & Kurloz Makara (

kurloz_makara)
What: Looking at drawings and just chilling
Where: Astralfield
When: A day after this
Warnings: Language, creepy mimes, Tim Burton.

Since arriving in MallowHallow, Kurloz had hardly slept, too worried about the nightmares coming back now that he was out of the dream bubbles. Back home he would dream of nothing, the horror terrors keeping dead’s restless minds at ease. He never trusted them of course, who would? They were called horror terrors for a reason, and it was rather strange that only those who have played the game where sent to the dream bubbles after death, even stranger taking in the fact that the game has been being played long before them, and yet for billions of sweeps it was just them and their parallel selves.

But he was in no rush to go back, it had gotten pretty fucking dull and this place offered whole new experiences. It was a nice vacation before all chaos broke loose. And besides, trolls are nocturnal creatures, the only reason he avoided meeting in the night was because of the stories he heard from Astra.

He had nothing else to do though, so during the dead of night he traveled out to Astralfield and just spent the night wandering around. When morning hit he headed to a random bench, watching as the magic turned their dreams into reality. Damn, talk about a miraculous sight. He continued to wait there for a while until he started to see more and more people coming out of their homes.

He then sent Victor a text containing a photo showing off the closest land mark he could find.

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Victor's had an interesting first day. After getting the full briefing from everyone on his chalkboard (and in person from one young lady), he'd spent the rest of yesterday wandering about, wondering just what he was going to do with himself. A new world where dreams come to life, no way home, and just his sketchbook and whatever he had in his pockets to sustain him. At least when he'd moved to Whitechapel he'd had a few spare changes of clothes.

He'd returned to his bench as night fell, unsure which -- if any -- of the buildings around him were really real. And as ten o'clock ticked closer, he'd settled himself down for the night, sketchbook tucked under one arm. Part of him hadn't really expected anything to happen -- he never fell asleep quickly, could this mystery world really fix that --

And then, with no warning, it had been morning, and he'd been lying in a bed in what looked like a small hotel room.

The idea that he'd been moved without his knowledge had upset him at first, but a quick question of a passerby informed him that it happened to everybody, and that the room was now his -- he'd be waking up in it every day from now on. Well -- at least he had a roof over his head. After confirming that everything he owned now had indeed come with him, he'd puttered around the little apartment, investigating everything and getting himself settled in his new surroundings.

That is, until the text with the photo comes. Ah, yes, Kurloz. He examined the photograph and nodded before sending a reply: [I'll be there as soon as I can.]

Then he grabbed his sketchbook and headed out onto the streets. A lot of things had changed overnight -- that red building he'd seen yesterday was now blue, what looked like some great bat swooped through the sky, and --

And there were large whitish mushrooms with glowing green stripes on their caps growing out of the ground and the sides of buildings. Victor blushed as he remembered one of his own dreams from the other night. Well, if he really needed proof that Astralfield did all people claimed it did. . .

It took him a few minutes, but he eventually spotted the landmark, and Kurloz. He waved as he got closer. "Hello?"

Kurloz heard his phone go off, a cacophony of honks which scared the daylights out of the early morning passerby's. He answers it and sends a quick ":o)" back, just to let victor know he got his message.

He then goes back to admiring the sights until he hears Victor. Of course, since Victor had only spoken to him through text, he didn't know what the guy looked or sounded like. He looked over to the man, and noticed he was coming towards him, which further proved that this tall, pale, black haired gentleman had to be his new friend.

The mime smiled brightly, and waved back before standing up and meeting him half way. Even when you didn't include the long, candy corn colored goat horns, Kurloz stood at least 7 feet and was nearly as thin at the other. His black hair was wild and curly, framing around his painted face. His neck, which wasn't painted, was grey skinned with a touch of indigo hue. Everything else was covered, either by his skeleton suit with matching gloves or with the purple shorts and boots he wore. His eyes where pure white, only a glimmer of color which marked where his pupils might be, but could easily be the sunlight shining off of the glassy white surface. And he had black stitches running through his lips, which didn't seem to bother him in the slightest even though his smile forced them to stretch uncomfortably.

All in all, he was one seriously creepy mother fucker, and very alien. But at the same time he still had youth to his face, having died when he was 18 to 21 human years and his eyes where large. If they still retained their color he might even pass for cute, well, to anyone who could look past the death obsession and the stitches.

Victor, by contrast, has seen Kurloz before thanks to the video function (that still amazes him -- moving pictures that transmit sound in real time! So interesting), so at least he knew how to recognize him. Or, well, mostly -- the fact that Kurloz is taller than he is makes him start in surprise briefly as the mime stands. Victor himself is six-foot-three, and while there's a few people taller than him back in his home village, there tends to be almost no one like that anywhere else.

The rest of it -- the makeup, the horns, the grey skin, the skeleton suit -- yes, it's alien, and a little on the unsettling side. But Victor's talked to actual skeletons and found them to be excellent company, so he's willing to look past the scarier bits. (Although he still wonders about those stitches. . .did Kurloz do that to himself, or have it done to him? How does he eat? Maybe he doesn't have to?)

He pulls his mind away from that line of thought and offers Kurloz a smile in return. He himself is looking slightly disheveled -- black hair not slicked back as neatly as usual, clothes a bit rumpled -- but that's what happens when you don't have any pajamas. And at least start the night on a bench outside. His clothes are Victorian in nature (given that, you know, he's come here from early 1876): a dark grey suit with light-grey-striped pants, a washed out red vest, and a dull blue tie. The body inside them is skinny as a beanpole and pale as bone, with long arms and legs, a head that looks a bit too large for his neck, and feet that seem far too tiny to support the rest of him, thin as he is. He also has large eyes, which are a brown so dark they're practically black. His youth is all-natural -- he's only coming up on his twenty-first birthday, although the lines under his eyes can sometimes make him look older than he is. Not nearly as alien as Kurloz by a long shot, but his general "walked out of a tintype/black-and-white photograph" look does turn the occasional head.

"Well," he says as they meet in the middle. "It is good to see you in the flesh." He's a very soft-spoken young man, and clearly English from his accent.

Victor would be amazed by what Kurloz still continues to perform and must perform in order to live a comfortable dead lifestyle. Ghosts from his realm still eat, and go to the bathroom, and feel pain. But it takes one very powerful entity in order to kill them off; otherwise they will live for billions upon billions of years. They also could fly, though most preferred to take more adventurous routes. How did Kurloz eat? Well that was one of many questions that surrounded the man.

The mime hardly cared about the state of dress Victor was in, he himself rather dirty from laying rest within a graveyard this entire time, and not one to complain about another's grooming habits. He must say though, Victor was a very interesting fellow. The alien slowly rounded him, looking him from large eyed glance to those tiny shoes. He grinned, yes, Victor proved to be more and more interesting as time passed.

Kurloz didn't know what English was, but that only made his accent more prominent to his ears and made him ever more curious. He stops in front of him again, head slightly tilted to the side. His smile eases up, back to cheerful with slight enthusiasm. He then places a hand against his own chest and bows his head to the other, being careful about those long protruding horns. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Victor.

Well, Victor's not unfamiliar with Dead who eat, at least -- the ones Downstairs cooked up one hell of a wedding cake to serve when he agreed to marry Emily. But the fact that Kurloz has to eat to still function would be a surprise, yes. He's pretty sure his own Dead only ate for the pleasure of it. Still, different universes and such. . .

Victor can already tell Kurloz is interesting too. But it's a good sort of interesting, in his eyes. Weirdly enough, the obsession with death and the dead is almost comforting in a small way. Victor can deal with the dead. Hell, he thinks he deals with the dead better than the living. And it's so nice to be able to talk about the Land of the Dead to someone and not be considered off his rocker. Or destined for hell.

Victor smiles and returns the bow, being careful of the horns as well, then holds up the sketchbook. "I do hope you don't mind butterflies," he comments. "I tend to draw a lot of them. There's other things to look at too, I promise."

Well, the eating bit was more for comfort. It gets annoying, feeling hungry for your entire after life, not to mention painful. Besides it wasn't hard, since there after world formulated personalized bubbles out of their memories. He could eat his favorite childhood food for centuries. It wasn't such a bad set up. But comfort did get boring when you’re used to the hustle and bustle of living on the edge and have faced the destruction of your universe.

Kurloz has seen his own share of prosecution towards his strange behavior, but rather than accepting it he gave them something to fear. It's hard to remember a time where he actually gave a damn what other people thought of him. It just seemed so simple, since he wasn't interested in conforming to society’s views. He was glad to hear that Victor had learned and embraced this new side to him.

In a blink of an eye his face changes to a confused expression. What the hell was a "butterfly"? But he supposed he would be seeing one soon. He motions for Victor to fallow him and they go back to the bench he had been waiting on previously.

Whereas Victor's Land of the Dead seems to be a twisted, more colorful reflection of the World Above. And the cakes are baked with noses in them. And there's always some sort of party happening. If there's anything the Land of the Dead isn't, it's quiet -- well, most of the time.

Victor's slowly coming around to the idea of not caring what people think. He's just spent most of his life trying to please an unpleaseable mother. But after some of the stuff he's gone through, he's developing more of a spine. Perhaps he wouldn't necessarily give anyone something to fear, but it's likely he'd ignore those he didn't like. Those he does like, though -- well, he enjoys helping people, so. . .

Victor follows along, tilting his head. "Haven't you seen a butterfly before? They're winged insects. Generally very colorful." He can't imagine a life without his butterflies, honestly. He's loved them ever since he was small. And they've got an even more special significance to him now, thanks to Emily. . .

Kurloz shakes his head, before sitting down on the bench, looking up at Victor. He might recognize it after he sees an image of it, but being from another planet made communication kind of difficult.

It was the same thing with Lions being roar beasts, and cats being meow beasts. Trolls where rather dull with how they named their animal life. They tended to take the first characteristic they could find and label the creature that. And it was rather interesting how even though they were technologically superior they never went in depth to the different species they had on their planet.

Another large difference he noticed was how friendly the wild life here seemed to be. On Beforus and Alternia, their animals where completely different from the one's here, but you could see the similarities. For instance, a bull on earth was a male cow, while the nearest thing they had was a tinker bull, a small, sweet little bull with fairy wings. Kurloz himself was taken care of by a sea goat, which would eat everything and anyone in sight.

He thought for a long while on if he's seen anything like a butterfly. But the only thing that came to mind was...well...themselves. He knew a guy who was born with fairy wings and if you died in the game on your god tier bed you would be reborn with your own. The wings would come in all different colors and styles, and to humans they may seem like insects. They were born as grubs, all coming from the same source, known as the mother grub. Eventually they would cocoon themselves and then hatch in their current forms, although smaller.

Another planet, another world, another time period -- all things that can hinder communication. But they shall persevere! Art knows no language boundaries, after all.

Victor may have grown up raised by humans, but in his family, he was closest to his pet dog Scraps. The pup was his best friend while he was growing up -- the one creature he could always rely on. The day the dog died was one of the saddest in Victor's life. The experience left him with a lifelong love of dogs, even if he's yet to have another pet. His other experiences with animals consist mainly of feeding the stray cats that hung around the cannery and the fish stall in the square and chasing butterflies. He's loved butterflies ever since he was small. Something about their bright colors -- so striking in his dull little town -- and the way they floated and drifted on the breeze, no cares at all. . .he's always wanted that freedom. He hasn't been around long enough to see about the wild life in Mallow Hallow, but he hopes there's at least some butterflies for him to study. He's a hobbyist lepidopterist, after all, and he can't keep up his hobby without subjects. Which would also make him very interested in the troll reproduction process, actually. Particularly the cocooning. It would be like seeing a caterpillar's metamorphosis writ large!

He opens up the sketchbook to a random page, showing a detailed, annotated sketch of one of the local species from Victor's hometown. Victor points to it with a smile. "That's a butterfly."

Which made Art the universal language between all life forms.

Many trolls would like to see the birth of their kind as well, not because of any parental emotion or keen scientific interest, but because they were a dying breed. In fact there was only 5 troll's left, one that was destroying and taking over galaxies and four young teenagers who probably won't even see their adult molt. Oh well, Kurloz wasn't all that interested in the continuation of his species, he was meant to kill and destroy, aiding to the development of future grubs was just a thing. Adult trolls didn't have to care for their young like humans did, and it was very rare to hear about a troll who did hold such an attachment.

Kurloz looks over his shoulder, craning his head to the side when he sees the butterfly. Oh, that's what he was talking about, a flutter bug. He smiles, remembering seeing a few in his life time, although it wasn't very often, and all the 'butterfly's' he's seen where the same color. But you don't really expect to see such creatures when you spent your entire like on a beach. In fact, the time he did see one was out in the middle of a forest, following his miracle girl, Meulin down to her cave. And right now he was experiencing the same awe he held back then, but this time to the Victors skilled sketch. Beautiful…

And how wonderful that is.

Aw -- Victor would be saddened by that news. He's rather soft-hearted, and the idea of an entire species going extinct. . .yeah, that definitely would make him a touch depressed. Even if he barely knows the species at this point.

Victor grins at him. Seems he recognizes it after all. "I guess they call them something different where you come from?" he says, then flips the page, showing another species. "This is actually a moth -- similar to a butterfly, but different in a few specific areas," he says, engaging his 'entomological encyclopedia' mode. "Moths are typically nocturnal, and tend to have duller colors than your average butterfly. They also have different antennae -- see how this is feathered, while the other one had straight ones with little knobs?"

Some species where better off dying, mostly when they were ruled by an evil queen that led to their own demise as well as that of humanity, though humans helped, thanks to gluttony and greed. He had to give her props though; using the humans love for baked goods against them was pure genius. Then again, who didn't like baked goods?

Kurloz nods as the question, affirming it before his watchful glance his stolen by the sweep of the page. He tilts his head at the creature, vaguely having seen one but... He brings up his hands and creates gestures for enlarging something, by bringing his hands nearly together then reaching out, stretching his fingers. The only moth he saw was a luses, and was ginormous; in fact it was known for creating whirlwinds.

Then a question comes to mind, something he never really bothered asking before, because it was just the way things where on his planet, but... He makes a writing motion and then holds out his hand, a questioning look on his face. "Can I barrow a pen?"

Good point, although Victor would probably still feel a little sad. He'd have to allow the baked goods point, though. He's a sucker for them too. Buying day-old muffins from one of the street sellers back in Whitechapel was one of the few nice things he remembers about the place.

Victor watches his gestures curiously, then nods as he gets it. "Oh, a big one? They come in a variety of sizes on my world. The Atlas moth can get to be almost a foot from wingtip to wingtip, apparently." He smiles a little. "I've always sort of wanted to see one. Unfortunately, they live in Brazil and Southeast Asia, and I'm rather far away from those places. . ."

Ah, that gesture he recognizes right away. He starts to reach for his jacket pocket -- then frowns. "Oh dear -- do I have a pen?" he asks, searching around his coat. "I was reaching for my quill when I was -- taken, and I don't think it came with me. . ." He bites his lip. "Oh, no, I don't. . ."

Edited 2013-05-17 04:50 (UTC)

Kurloz silently chuckles at that, if he's so amazed by a foot long moth then he could only imagine his shock if he saw one the size of a house. He then looked around them and figured that he probably will one day. Maybe he'll even see a horde of atlas moths, all it took was one citizen to have a dream about the creatures. Maybe if he hung around enough, Victor may dream up those beautiful multicolored butterflies, and bring his own sketches to life. He smiles, this place really was miraculous.

But soon enough he's drawn out of his reverie and back to Victor as he searches for his lost pen. Well, that sucked, and also meant he had to try and find some other means for communication. He looks up, and summons his Miracle modus, which to Victor would look like a bunch of squares outline in flashing colors with little images of items dashing around spontaneously with no real pattern in sight. It was called the miracle modus because it would be a miracle to get what you’re looking for out of it. To Kurloz, such things where normal, even the humans on his world had their own modus's, created and set up to their own personalities, he never even considered that it might be an oddity to the Victorian man.

He reaches into the modus and the first thing he pulls out is a long blue trench coat. Nope, not what he wants, so it goes back in. Then he reaches in again and pulls out a skull. Cool, forgot that was in there, but still won't help in this situation. He puts it back in and with a third reach he pulls out...FAYGO! He knew he had some stashed somewhere. He offers a bottle of the cheap sugary soda to Victor before starring into the void. Usually he's really good at getting what he's searching for, where did it run off too now? He places a hand down on the bench and feels something tough under his palm. He looks down and theirs his phone, completely forgetting it was already out. He starts and lets the miracle modus disappear as he picks up the phone and begins to type.

He holds the phone up to Victor, a simple writing app open with that familiar purple lettering scrawled over the white page. WHY ARE MOTHS PALER THEN BUTTERFLY'S?

(OOC: The Miracle Modus looks like THIS And Kurloz's phone looks like THIS For reference.)

Yeah, that would inspire some epic-level gaping on Victor's part. And it is likely that, eventually, he will. Butterflies are on his mind a lot -- in fact, he dreamed up some last night. They don't look anything like the ones currently visible in his sketchbook, but if one should flutter by. . .well, Victor would be quick to point it out. Miraculous indeed -- Victor's only been here a day, but already he can see that.

Victor shrugs apologetically again -- then freezes as the Miracle Modus comes up. What in the world?! How -- and then Kurloz is actually pulling items out of it, like coats and skulls and bottles -- Victor takes the offered soda without really thinking, still trying to figure out just what it is Kurloz's done here. All right, apparently it's some sort of (very flashy and hard to track) storage pocket. . .that's getting a little hard to look at with all the bouncing around and jiggling. . .

He blinks and shakes his head a few times as Kurloz dismisses the Modus, needing a moment before he can focus on the text on the screen. Oh. Apparently Kurloz has something other than a chalkboard for his communications. . .but it's all right. He can handle it. It works. A small box with writing on it is easier to understand than the Modus. (And besides, somebody already mentioned using a PILLOW for theirs.) "They're -- they're not, always," Victor says, trying to get back on track. "A lot of them are darker -- brown is a popular color. I believe it's because they're nocturnal. The colors help them blend into shadows or moonlight better, to avoid predators." His gaze shifts to where the Modus was. Oh dear, this is going to bother him unless he inquires. "Do -- do you mind if I ask what that was? The, ah, squares thing?"

((OOC: I seeee -- yes, I can see how it would be a miracle to find what you're looking for in that. XD))

Kurloz would like that; Victor’s world seemed just as interesting as the man himself. He's seen the human world, watched it as it died and was reborn again, but the things that his new friend talked about sound so ethereal, truly indicating how different their universes where from one another.

This was only proved by his surprised reaction to something so common place. He thought for sure everybody had a modus, even those humans from way back then. Well, more so he felt the surprise, rather than saw it. He turned to Victor and paid close attention to his words, before tilting his head, not in question this time but in thought. Maybe that was why their luses where white, to blend in with the night.

Maybe later he'll ask Porrim if she's ever seen any colorful creatures during the day, she was the only troll known to him who could actually survive in the blistering sun. He then perks up at the question, smiling since it was perfectly okay. He was cautious against questions about himself and his personal life, but anything else was fine.

THAT MY BROTHER WAS MY MIRACLE MODUS, IT HOLDS EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING YOU CAN IMAGINE, ALTHOUGH IT'S A REAL MIRACLE TO GET IT BACK OUT AGAIN."

Victor might argue that -- he considers his hometown, Burtonsville, one of the most boring places in the world, and with good reason. The place is painted in almost nothing but shades of grey, and everyone who lives there is an absolute slave to routine. And Whitechapel -- don't get him started. But still, he knows there's pleasures to be had in his home world -- the occasional splash of color in the form of butterflies, or an unexpected kind word from a stranger in a place filled with violence and hate. All in all, though, Kurloz would probably prefer seeing the Land of the Dead over the rest of Victor's world. That's where the real action is.

Perhaps -- not familiar with luses, Victor couldn't tell you for sure. But it seems a good theory!

Victor stares at the words again. "Miracle modus," he repeats softly. "I've never seen anything like it. Then again, I'm seeing a lot of things like that lately. . . Is it a kind of magic you can do?" He knows magic is real -- how else could he visit the Land of the Dead without dying himself? And in his eyes, anything that can act as a sort of extradimensional storage pocket -- even if it is hard to find whatever you put in it -- must be some sort of magic.

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[Closed] Welcome he who walks with Death.

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