[Closed] Mortician, Watchmaker, and many other names

[journeyfromwar]

[ Characters ] Tir McDohl, Sylvan
[ Location ] The Clock Tower
[ Date/Time ] Sunday Morning, April 4
[ Warning ] No idea. 8D;
[ Content ] Tir decides he wants a few things answered, and who better to ask than the first Roleholder he met?

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[roleholders]

The follow-up question surprised him, not because of the nature of the question but as to how it was blurted out all of a sudden. Sylvan returned to his work, reaching out and putting on his glasses.

"They're residents. Although you foreigners will turn into one as well if you die."

He really wondered now what had happened.

He didn't often keep tabs on the activities of the Queen and the others. It was never his business, whatever their definition of amusement was. He had his own work, own Role. And whatever they did was a part of their own Role itself. Still it was his business when afterimages start pouring in, clocks being constantly dumped on his desk. Work piling on top of the other.

It wasn't that really. It wasn't because of his work.

It was because people were dying.

Sylvan stopped at his second question, lifting his head and gaze back to the foreigner. He stared at him on top of his glasses, eyebrows furrowed. These questions, he was becoming more and more suspicious. It was enough that there was around five clocks dumped on his desk the night before that, all of which were from foreigners. But this--

"The potion triggers the contract you made with a Roleholder. You'll be forced to kill anyone who reveals a faction different from yours," he replied flatly. He already mentioned this before, hadn't he?

[journeyfromwar]

"..."

Like ghosts? Spirits? He wasn't sure, but that was the closest comparison he could conjure at the moment. Did that mean they lived in an endless cycle like this? Then there was that other matter.

The potion. The letter. The revelation of factions. It wasn't a homicide then? No, he already suspected it wasn't. It didn't make sense if it were. How could mentioning a faction trigger a killer instinct though? Did it have something to do with the clocks? It didn't make sense why she couldn't remember who they were. In fact...

"What happens after you win? You lose?

Do you remember your opponent?" This one was said carefully, as if he was threading on dangerous grounds. He didn't know what Sylvan was capable of, whether he merely was an observer or a combatant, and not having a weapon nor his rune puts him at a disadvantage if it were the latter. He didn't think he'd hurt him, though, but it was never wrong to be cautious. He didn't know him very well, though the impression he got was that Sylvan wouldn't want more of those clocks around. He didn't seem like the type to attack unless he needs to defend himself, at least.

[roleholders]

"Yes and no. You'll remember what happened to you, whether you killed or were killed, whether you revealed your faction or found out someone else's. But you won't remember faces or factions. You won't know who you killed. You won't know who killed you."

It was a sick game but those were the rules at hand. And the rules were the law governing all actions, all activities, all free will. And like their own roles, these laws were not to be defied. It was how things went on in this world, whether they like it or not. It was how this world amused itself, whether it cost a limb, a life or more than that.

Not even the Roleholders would be able to do something about it, now that the game has been laid out.

Although admittedly Sylvan was amused at the tone, the way that question was asked. Hesitant. But then again, with a trigger-happy Hatter and an equally dangerous Queen, it was normal to be cautious around them. And after all, he was the Watchmaker. He was the one who stood between life and death, making the decisions.

He didn't finish the clock just yet, but set it aside and picked up another one. He didn't think the foreigner would like to see people get reborn.

"You're one of the Madison's, aren't you?"

[journeyfromwar]

A game indeed. One with rules he didn't approve of. He wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing that one cannot remember who killed or had been killed in battle, but he supposed the less people remember each and every faction, the less likely they'll try to kill each other upon sight. The thought disturbed him.

A question has been asked though, and he might as well be polite enough to answer back. After all, he shouldn't expect others to willingly answer his queries without tossing back some of their own.

"The Hatter? Yes." MAFIA. An odd name, and one he has never heard before. The Hatter was strange, but then, that wasn't a surprise. He was like the Queen and Perry, and he didn't like it one bit. Altair was right, this world was mad, and it was definitely run by people of the same caliber.

"... Tell me. Why do you do this?" Revive people. A role, he knew, but then, he also wanted to know if this was also by choice. The others seemed to enjoy their roles, though Sylvan didn't emit the same enthusiasm for his. He wonders if he chose to continue to do this because it's what he wants, or because he can't stop.