The Times, They Are A-Changin' (OTA)

[moralabsolutism]

A. 99 Luftballoons - Hillingdon House

Rorschach was up early in the Hillingdon House. He was down in the kitchen, staring at the jar of sugar like he was going to burn a hole in it by sheer force of will. Many things had faded from his time as a human being. He'd forgotten how to breathe, what sleeping and dreaming felt like, and even what it had been like to be visible all the time. What hadn't faded was the memory of sugar cubes. He'd always had some in his pocket, chomping on them whenever the urge struck him. Right now, he'd give up what passed for a soul to have a bite of just one.

When someone comes into the kitchen, he whips his head around, alarmed, and suddenly disappearing. When he realizes it's just another resident of Hillingdon, he flickers back into existence, taking up residence at the table once again. He doesn't say hello or make any introduction. This is on par for interactions with the quiet, laconic ghost. Rorschach is always just sort of there, like a piece of furniture that they just can't seem to get rid of.

B. Desolation Row - Around London

When you're dead, there's nothing but time on your hands. Rorschach has learned this well after thirty years of roaming around London. Frankly, it's a shame he doesn't have one of his journals in his pocket anymore. He would have filled up a dozen of them by now with everything that he'd seen over the years. This city was much the same as New York: pretty on the surface, but full of grime when one looked at its underbelly. So many supernatural types made this place their home and most of them showed some sort of malice towards human beings. If only he'd been alive, he would have taken great joy in clearing them out. As it was, all he could do was watch, and occasionally point hunters in the right direction.

He can be found in numerous spots all over the city, but he avoids the Thames as an inescapable obstacle. Whether just walking down a crowded street, perched on the rooftop of a tall building, or riding through the Underground, Rorschach watches and waits. Though what he's waiting for, he just can't say. As it is, he can be found only occasionally visible, his odd mask the first thing that stands out. Otherwise, people just feel a cold chill as he passes by or goes through them, a sudden weird feeling making the hair stand up on the back of their necks.

C. Wildcard

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Comments

A

[constantprisoner]

While Sirius is fairly used to supernatural happenings going on around him, he's a little startled by the sudden disappearance and reappearance of a ghost at the table. Although, after he shakes it off and recognizes him, he relaxes.

"Still here, huh?" he asks, nonchalantly making his way over to a cupboard.

[moralabsolutism]

Rorschach turns to look at Sirius, the blots that make up his face swirling around in a slow pattern, dividing and reforming into two equal portions across his cheeks.

It takes a minute before he responds. Never one much for social graces, after so many years of solitude, sometimes he forgets that people can actually hear him now when he talks. "Still here. Still dead." That bone-dry tone is as close to humor as Rorschach is likely to come.

[constantprisoner]

"Yeah, I figured that wouldn't change much," Sirius replied, conversationally. He pauses as a thought comes to him.

"Have you moved since I was last in here? I mean, you're not tied to the house, right?"

[moralabsolutism]

"No. Not tied. Did plenty." He didn't elaborate as to what that might have been. Some of it, like wandering through London in search of a case to give over to the hunters, he knew Sirius wouldn't mind. Other things like going through the personal belongings of the residents of the house in order to keep tabs on them...well, Rorschach wasn't stupid. Best to keep those things to himself.

[constantprisoner]

"And yet I find you back here. Guess I must miss you on your days out."

To provide the opposite, Sirius isn't one to really keep tabs on people. Save those he feels he needs to keep an eye on and a old ghost isn't one of them. He figures that Rorschach can take care of himself, and outside of passing on, there wasn't much that a ghost could do. At least, not that he'd seen.

[moralabsolutism]

"Got to make sure none of you do something stupid."

There's rarely a dull moment in Hillingdon territory, and while Rorschach's influence of the physical world is nill, he can still take note of everything, and remember it for later. Just because he was dead didn't mean he had given up his hunting ways. When one got right down to it, it was all Rorschach really knew. He had been one of the very best, so he felt it was only right he should watch over the residents of the house, and keep them from any untimely ends.

[constantprisoner]

"It's nice to know that someone's the voice of reason around here, then."

Because it certainly isn't Sirius, regardless of what he might tell you.

"Anything been happening lately?"

Being around the house more often than not, Sirius is aware of the comings and goings. But there might always be something he'd missed.

B

[knowntohisfriends]

A crowded street? The Dodger's natural place of work. Not that he's actually doing much today. The nip that's been in the air the past few days seems to have turned itself right up, and the Dodger has kept his hands to himself as a result. They're shoved into the pockets of his coat, curling into fists in an attempt to keep warm.

"Wonder if it'll snow?" he mutters, mainly to himself. If it did snow, that was a day of next to no work - when the trains went off, it tended to create more grumblers and people grumbling tend to be more aware of what they have on themselves.

[moralabsolutism]

Rorschach is making his way down the street, passing right through people, the habit of moving around them long since forgotten. Each time he does that, someone shivers, and turns their collar up in a way that has nothing to do with the cold and damp. Dodger's hat is the first thing that catches the ghost's eye. He can appreciate a good piece of headwear. It's a lost fashion trend in this day and age.

As he draws nearer to the boy, he gets a strange feeling, some instinct that tells him there's something different about him. Could he be of the supernatural persuasion? Only one way to find out. He follows Dodger, silent as deat.

[knowntohisfriends]

The Dodger ends up fishing around in his pockets, pulling out a ton of change - most of it in coppers - and carefully counting it up. There's just enough to get him a hot cup of tea from a nearby snack van, and he heads off in that direction, handing over the change with a muttered sorry. Still, it gets him his tea and he wraps his hands around the Styrofoam cup with a small grin.

He's vaguely aware of a feeling on the back of his neck, like he's being followed but granted in this weather it could just be a chill. He walks down the street sipping at his tea and trying to keep the warmth in.

[moralabsolutism]

Rorschach follows the kid down the street. Even if it proves to be nothing, it's better than just aimlessly wandering about for the next six hours before he heads back to the house. As he follows Dodger, there's just a flicker at the edge of the changeling's vision, something seen out of the corner of the eye before disappearing again.

[knowntohisfriends]

It's the flickering that gets to him. He's pretty sure that his eyesight is fine - he can always spot out a mark without trying - so that flickering is annoying him. He reckons - he thinks - he might be being followed. Not exactly the best thing for one in his line of work.

So he slows down, meanders along the paths and looking in windows. Just make it seem like he's a kid who has to spend time outside till someone's back at home.

[moralabsolutism]

Rorschach follows Dodger as he slows down, moving from here to there without any real purpose in his gait. Some might find it dull, but after thirty years, Rorschach was used to the strange habits people possessed. It was all he could do, watch the world turn while he remained the same.

He projected himself again into the physical world around him, this time lasting just long enough for Dodger to turn and catch sight of him before disappearing again. Now he's just actively waiting for him to notice the ghost.

B

[falsify]

Ah, it's the Hillingdon ghost.

Eames steps onto a train (thank goodness for the 24 hour tube honestly, 2017 is looking up,) and takes a seat and picks up a discarded newspaper to occupy himself. It's a little after 1AM, good and quiet and empty, which is good because Eames has been in an increasingly shitty mood for the last year.

He's half-heartedly reading some nothingy article on international affairs — something to do with France, but honestly fuck France — but whether or not he's being stared at, it's hard to shake his awareness of the ghost's presence on the carriage. Mostly because he's fairly certain this guy would've tried to kill him about thirty times over by now if he could.

It's incredibly casual, the way he asks, "still invisible to the less sensitive?" As he flips the page to some celebrity gossip he couldn't care less about, and turns to the next page in hope of something at least vaguely interesting.

[moralabsolutism]

It was one of the universe's cosmic jokes that only the worst of the freaks of this world like fae and werewolves were the ones most predisposed to be able to see ghosts. Somewhere, the universe was laughing at how Rorschach's life after death had gone thus far.

He has two options as he stands there, leather gloves curled up tight subconsciously into fists. After all, some fae eat ghosts. (Though the last one that had tried to do that to Rorschach had learned why the small ghost was not to be messed with.) He could just remain sullen and quiet until Eames got to where he was going. Or he could actually acknowledge the fae lord. The only answer Eames gets is a tip of the hat and a growly "Hurm" from the ghost.

[falsify]

What does that mean. Eames raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't look up at the ghost-- that's just a noise, it doesn't mean anything.

Whatever. Eames sighs, eyes skipping back a few paragraphs to something he thinks he might've misread. "Relax," he says, almost sounding bored. Maybe a little tired. "I've no interest in eating you."

[moralabsolutism]

Eames will need to do a little more to get Rorschach to actually respond to him. Never much for being a chatterbox when he was alive, as a ghost, he rarely responds to anyone when he's outside Hillingdon territory. It's better that way. He doesn't have to think about what to say or how to react, two things that have never come easy to him. His curiosity about this fae has been pricked a little.

So he sits right next to Eames. What does personal space matter when he'll just go right through him if he gets too close? He's looking Eames up and down, taking in his image. He's handsome enough, Rorschach supposes, though he's hardly one to judge that sort of thing. Well put together, nice clothes, expensive haircut, someone who looks like he has money, though he supposes worldly concerns like that don't matter much to a fae either.

[falsify]

Oh, cool. Now the ghost is sitting with him. Eames adjusts as if to share the newspaper with the invisible jerk next to him, and he tilts his head a little.

"Not very talkative, are you?" He knows he's not getting an answer already, it's fine. "Were you like this when you were alive too?"

[moralabsolutism]

Rorschach tilts his head and looks the newspaper over. There's usually one lying about Hillingdon, but the problem is that he can rarely find someone to turn the pages for him. It's a terrible pain not to have even the slightest abilities to move things around like other ghosts do.

In response to the question, Rorschach gives a short nod. Yes, he's always been this way. As a ghost, the condition has obviously gotten worse at deteriorating his already poor social skills, but Rorschach had never been a extrovert, willing to talk just for the sake of it. He only says something if there's going to be meaning behind it.

A

[roddy_reinigen]

Roddy jumped when he went into the kitchen only to see a pale, ghastly form vanish, only to rematerialize. He'd seen this figure before, but it creeped him out every time. Some ghosts, when they realized they could be seen, tried to make conversation. When they did that, it at let Roddy know something about them, made them seem more human.

This ghosts never strung enough words together for that to be the case, however.

"Right. Just what I wanted. A daily dose of creepy to go with my balanced breakfast."

[moralabsolutism]

Rorschach didn't say anything. This wasn't entirely unusual in the ghost's behavior. He was a ghost of only four or five words when he felt the need to say anything at all. He barely moved, just shifting his hands to ease them under his chin as he continued to stare at Roddy. Only the blank mask moved, the blots of black shifting around, hoving over his eyes for a moment as if to highlight the ghost's unblinking stare.

Frankly, he didn't pay a lot of attention to Roddy. Socially introverted as he was, he never had anything to really say to the kid. Just seemed another shifter who was part of the group for whatever his own reasons were.

[roddy_reinigen]

And the ghost just stared. Well, that was just great. Roddy rolled his eyes and got out some milk and cereal before turning back to the ghost.

"You know it's rude to stare, right?"

[moralabsolutism]

"I know." The voice that comes out is deep, harsh, and raspy, like the owner has been gargling with nails for a couple of years. He doesn't talk often and only when he has something important to say. "Don't care."

[roddy_reinigen]

"Right." Of course he did. "Just making sure you knew."

Roddy finished getting his breakfast together, pouring himself a glass of apple juice and eating his cereal in silence for a few minutes. He was trying to ignore the ghost, he really was, but he was just so...

"You know, I ran into a fae recently, so I've already had my fair share of creepy for a while."

In case he thought there was a quota that Roddy hadn't yet met. Yes, one short encounter with a fae was enough for Roddy to feel he met his creepy quota.

[moralabsolutism]

Roddy got a sideways look that didn't really translate well through the ever-moving mask. The kid needed to toughen up. Even before he'd gotten involved in the supernatural community, Rorschach had no fear of anyone or anything. New York made its citizens tough. "Fae are nothing. Stare down a werewolf charging at you on a full moon. Then we'll talk."

That was possibly the longest sentence Rorschach had said in over a month. Give him enough time and he would launch into 'Back in my day' rhetoric, complete with talking about walking uphill both ways through the snow.