absolutely splendid

plotting | open

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threads | tracking

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updates | current as of 11/27

Indeed, a list is a tidy thing that a person can consort with. Perhaps going by the way of lists could influence a person's way of life in a manner which is all too rigid, and yet excruciatingly precise. It is in this precision that the boy - Idris, Idris Song, the maintenance man, the keeper of keys, the gardener, yes that Idris with all his names and titles - finds comfort. A list has succession, progression, and order. Completing the parts of a list, crisply crossing them off one by one with a clean cut of his pen, it is satisfying. An inkwell so deep and so capable it feels like the well of his soul being dipped into and struck across the universe of paper under his fingertips. So clean, so white, unmarred until he strikes with a flick of his wrist.

Trim the hedges Prune the daisies Prepare for winter Eat the frostblossom

He pauses at the last task. It makes him take pause because he has yet to complete this task, which is vexing, so seen in the way his perfectly creamed brow furrows and wrinkles. A disruption in the pristine nature of his face. How vexing, indeed. Indeed, he would have to take care of this.

He steps out into the garden, pen in one hand, paper in the other. He misses the inkwell and the comfort of it. The list feels foreign against his palm as the natural warmth slowly fades from his hold, and the elements of winter take root in his veins. Blue veins, red veins. Like ink, so fine and so true. His eyes course over the patio, dusted with crisp white snow. His eyes course over the hedges, freshly trimmed, nice and neat and tidy. Satisfying lines. Very tidy, indeed. Then the blossom.

The frost blossom.

The one he so plucked as winter bid a good day to him and the town. The one so pure and more white and more clean and more beautiful than any other flower, any set of petals, he had ever beheld. This flower vexes him. It is too nice. It is too clean. He must devour it, and yet the thought is one he cannot stomach for the life of him.

It vexes him.

He stares at the blossom, in its little pot, on the little table of his little patio. His lip quivers and tenses and puckers. His nostrils flare. His grip creases the paper under his palm. His knuckles frost over.

In his vexation, he raises his hand and drops it with all his might onto the center of the blossom, the tip of his pen stabbing into the center of the petals, marring them with a dark ink that stains so very nicely. It is satisfying.

He breathes.

He drops the list to the surface of the little patio table, taking the ruined flower and smearing the remnants of it across the page. It is an excruciatingly precise smear, indeed. Very satisfying, indeed. He leaves the list and the flower behind, a perfect mess on the table in his perfect garden.

He walks away, back inside, licking his fingers.

current ; idris is a resident of velgrove who was born here, however after inheriting an ability from his predecessor, idris's memories of his life prior have been wiped from the forefront of his mind. his muscles and subconscious remember things - when someone he knew is pointed out to him they feel strangely familiar, but he doesn't know them to see them. he is a maintenance technician for the town and completes work orders and general maintenance for all buildings throughout the town and surrounding areas. when he's not doing this work, he can be found on his estate in the fields, tending his garden comprised of flowerbeds, a hedge maze, and an archway full of roses that leads into this maze. in town, he has a ring of keys he carries around, and at home he carries garden sheers with him.

the past ; before the passing on of the keys, idris was still quite odd, as were his parents. he was always very particular about very specific things and had very random and spontaneous impulses that could and would often affront people. he's inappropriate but doesn't realize it, thinking he's keeping things tidied and organized. he can get irritated and frustrated quite easily. he also had a rare habit of acting on the irrational irritations and frustrations as they occurred, leading to irreversible consequences.

the keys ; idris is the new keeper of the keys, a role a former muse of mine from another horror-themed roleplay, son ilho, used to be. idris has inherited this role, and experienced an interplane sequence where he received a ring of keys from ilho and returned to his body in the present, velgrove, after opening an oak door. this is his current earliest memory, and the door itself appears often in his thoughts and dreams. this ring of keys is the item he keeps on his person at all times and is seen plainly as he works his maintenance jobs. this ring is a relic and can produce a key to open any lock or door in existence. he can also produce keys for people to swallow, which can create beneficial or adverse effects for the person consuming the key. if your character needs a push, they can come to idris.

the gardener ; idris is the gardener, his role from before receiving the key ring. at home, idris is almost always found out in the yard, tending to the garden on the family estate with his garden sheers. in this garden lies the maze, an entire section of hedges that seem much more alive than regular hedges. they move, shift, consume, grow, guide. they contain the seasons within them, and reveal truths, make new questions and allude to hidden answers. we do not recommend entering the maze, unless you are desperate. idris will invite new friends into the maze, however. accept or decline, it is up to you.

plots ; just some rough ideas to get starter, i am always open to brainstorming as well.