Ⅰ. THE REASON FOR THE SEASON Gideon has done her share of haunting and skulking, has noticed others haunting and skulking, and picks up on this latest round of haunting and skulking. (The whose who of haunting and skulking includes the Third House, the Fourth House, and Ninth House; unless you're getting real literal in which case the Fifth House and Eighth House come to show who's boss). They aren't bursting out of decor to attack anyone, so much as Gideon can tell, so like, she's not going to pull her machete on them. It's simply weird.
Being too tall, too buff, and too hot to easily fade into the background, Gideon leans into the Ninth House basics. She's wearing sunglasses inside, as ever, and layers on a sweatshirt with a hood, a thin one that she can still see through to make some shit out. She grew up in deeper dark than sunglasses and a hood. Then she establishes a new rhythm of wandering. That's not hard. She's wandered the entire time in this Shopping House. Thus begins Gideon Nav's Detective Agency. Inquire within.
Ⅱ. HE SEES YOU WHEN YOU’RE SLEEPING Not having grown up in a gift giving tradition (everything was recorded in a ledger, increasing or decreasing her debt to the Ninth House (spoiler alert, that number only ever got more negative; it's impossible to earn a way out of debt while on the Ninth House)), Gideon isn't sure what to make of an old man who vaguely looks like he could be Crux's cousin--if Crux smiled more frequently, liked people, and didn't shave--inviting everyone into his lap for a chat. It's far past melee to the quick sharp murder range of weapons. It's in front of an audience, sure, but Santa interrogates everyone on their behavior, keeping a ledger on everyone in the Shopping House, and rewarding or tut tutting them as he warrants.
Gideon would rather pull her intestinal tract out her ass than sit on Crux's lap. The man knows what he's doing though because most people receiving gifts seem to really fucking love them. Also, she reminds herself as she stands in line towering above many of the others waiting their turn, it's not Crux.
Sitting on the man's lap, her first thought is oh fuck, you're like a Seventh House Crux. Like the perfect corpse except alive? The living realer version. Crux's long lost twentieth cousin a few times removed from whenever Crux's ancestors perambulated to the Ninth House. This is a mistake. Except he's asking if she's been naughty or nice, and she focuses her attention down to convincing this not!Crux something with all her being.
There's been saving someone who was drowning and gathering food for people (and insects, which saves the people from being gathered as food) and helping others at the carnival and Gideon reaches the point she'd need to go farther back--to jumping on an iron fence, which she's not sure if that's more than a year ago, she's lost so many memories in the middle (weird thing being there do seem to be memories in the middle?) that it feels like less than a year ago--when he finally breaks into a smile, congratulates her, and pulls the largest ass gift box Gideon has seen that looks like it could hold a sword (a real two hander, not the toothpick cavaliers are expected to whip about) and the world becomes a soft gurgle of sound.
Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Gideon thinks (it's not praying, whatever it is it is).
Off to the side, still within earshot of ledger balancing, Gideon pulls off the big bow and ribbon and shuffles the lid off the long body of the box. She gasps the largest gasp ever to be gasped in the history of gasping because it is not only a sword, it is her sword, she's sure of it. Then, loudly, she shouts, "WHAT?!!!?!"
The sword is covered in bone that Gideon hits with her fist to dislodge. As she instinctively knew the moment her eyes laid eyes on it, the edge is dull. It's her blade, but her blade needs massive amounts of care. Not only the slow dulling of time, without proper care, but the active sword-fucking damage of bone wrapped around the sword. Her heart thunders in her chest, and Gideon holds her precious sword like a baby in her arms (the edge does not even bite into her skin). Then, as any parent would, she calls back everything she's learned about this Shopping House to track down what her baby needs.
Gideon is going to have words with Harrow over this.
((OOC: open to wild card starts of other types. Hit me up at inoctavo))
Gideon Nav | The Locked Tom | OTA
Gideon has done her share of haunting and skulking, has noticed others haunting and skulking, and picks up on this latest round of haunting and skulking. (The whose who of haunting and skulking includes the Third House, the Fourth House, and Ninth House; unless you're getting real literal in which case the Fifth House and Eighth House come to show who's boss). They aren't bursting out of decor to attack anyone, so much as Gideon can tell, so like, she's not going to pull her machete on them. It's simply weird.
Being too tall, too buff, and too hot to easily fade into the background, Gideon leans into the Ninth House basics. She's wearing sunglasses inside, as ever, and layers on a sweatshirt with a hood, a thin one that she can still see through to make some shit out. She grew up in deeper dark than sunglasses and a hood. Then she establishes a new rhythm of wandering. That's not hard. She's wandered the entire time in this Shopping House. Thus begins Gideon Nav's Detective Agency. Inquire within.
Ⅱ. HE SEES YOU WHEN YOU’RE SLEEPING
Not having grown up in a gift giving tradition (everything was recorded in a ledger, increasing or decreasing her debt to the Ninth House (spoiler alert, that number only ever got more negative; it's impossible to earn a way out of debt while on the Ninth House)), Gideon isn't sure what to make of an old man who vaguely looks like he could be Crux's cousin--if Crux smiled more frequently, liked people, and didn't shave--inviting everyone into his lap for a chat. It's far past melee to the quick sharp murder range of weapons. It's in front of an audience, sure, but Santa interrogates everyone on their behavior, keeping a ledger on everyone in the Shopping House, and rewarding or tut tutting them as he warrants.
Gideon would rather pull her intestinal tract out her ass than sit on Crux's lap. The man knows what he's doing though because most people receiving gifts seem to really fucking love them. Also, she reminds herself as she stands in line towering above many of the others waiting their turn, it's not Crux.
Sitting on the man's lap, her first thought is oh fuck, you're like a Seventh House Crux. Like the perfect corpse except alive? The living realer version. Crux's long lost twentieth cousin a few times removed from whenever Crux's ancestors perambulated to the Ninth House. This is a mistake. Except he's asking if she's been naughty or nice, and she focuses her attention down to convincing this not!Crux something with all her being.
There's been saving someone who was drowning and gathering food for people (and insects, which saves the people from being gathered as food) and helping others at the carnival and Gideon reaches the point she'd need to go farther back--to jumping on an iron fence, which she's not sure if that's more than a year ago, she's lost so many memories in the middle (weird thing being there do seem to be memories in the middle?) that it feels like less than a year ago--when he finally breaks into a smile, congratulates her, and pulls the largest ass gift box Gideon has seen that looks like it could hold a sword (a real two hander, not the toothpick cavaliers are expected to whip about) and the world becomes a soft gurgle of sound.
Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Gideon thinks (it's not praying, whatever it is it is).
Off to the side, still within earshot of ledger balancing, Gideon pulls off the big bow and ribbon and shuffles the lid off the long body of the box. She gasps the largest gasp ever to be gasped in the history of gasping because it is not only a sword, it is her sword, she's sure of it. Then, loudly, she shouts, "WHAT?!!!?!"
The sword is covered in bone that Gideon hits with her fist to dislodge. As she instinctively knew the moment her eyes laid eyes on it, the edge is dull. It's her blade, but her blade needs massive amounts of care. Not only the slow dulling of time, without proper care, but the active sword-fucking damage of bone wrapped around the sword. Her heart thunders in her chest, and Gideon holds her precious sword like a baby in her arms (the edge does not even bite into her skin). Then, as any parent would, she calls back everything she's learned about this Shopping House to track down what her baby needs.
Gideon is going to have words with Harrow over this.
((OOC: open to wild card starts of other types. Hit me up at