Post by Arthur Kirkland on May 6, 2013 21:59:28 GMT -5
Name: Arthur Kirkland
Nicknames: Art, Artie, "Eyebrows"
Age: 23
Date of Birth: July 17th
Gender: Male
Occupation: Occult Shoppe Owner - inherited from his mysterious grandfather
Heritage: Common Welsh Green/Fire Dragon; Snake Eye - Mother; Unknown - Father
Seed Rank: Heavy Seed
Birthplace: London, England.
Appearance: There's something about the man's appearance that is deceptive even to the untrained ape eye. His figure is slim, lightly muscled beneath the layers of garments that the Englishman often wears, and when he moves it is with an ease that is languid, almost predatory. It takes an effort for him to operate within the "norm" of human behaviour due to his upbringing. He is a dragon learning to be a human; he knows how they act yet is still in the stage of mimicking them instead of having mastered the technique. Public appearances make him fidgety in his demeanor.
Arthur's got a hair of wild yellow hair on his head, untamed by any shear or brush. He only bothers to cut it on occasions when it bothers him so sometimes it gets shaggy. His hair is matched by thick eyebrows that lend him an expressive face. By ape standards -- and by most beast standards -- he's handsome enough. There's a boyish roundness to his face that the Englishman has yet to shed even in his adulthood. This might be due to his relatively young years compared to other draconic breeds. Arthur is still a small child by the standards of dragons and that lingering stamp of youth demonstrates it.
His second most striking feature (if you're not obsessed with the eyebrows), would be his eyes. Arthur's green eyes are large on his face, very bright and in partnership with his eyebrows they give an easy glimpse into his moods. Since people's eyes are said to be the portal to their soul Arthur often wears sunglasses when he can get away with it. This is a precaution due to the fact that when his temper begins to slip, his eyes are the first thing about him that changes. Caught in the right second his pupils transform into reptilian slits. That can be unnerving to people. They are also a dead giveaway to his reptilian nature of breed.
Being a dragon, the Englishman enjoys shiny things. He is meticulous about his fashion for this reason, even if it looks bizarre to others. Arthur might pile on patterns that do not match, or fabrics that make no sense together, just because he enjoys how they look. Of course all of it is of the highest quality. It is a matter of pride to dress himself in a manner that reflects his wealth. He'll wear rings, earrings, watches, cufflinks, pins or brooches -- little touches of immense value on his person at all times to flaunt his riches to others. Plus, he takes delight in getting distracted with them when they're sparkly.
Distinguishing Features: Arthur is most easily identified by his thick eyebrows and wild yellow hair. Due to the nature of his temper and the occasional slip of control, he tends to keep his eyes covered by sunglasses to avoid constant explanations with curious creatures. They have an unfortunate habit of slipping serpentine when he's distracted or emotionally compromised. There are patches of his skin that are not scarred but have been chafed dry. Little patches where scales have left their mark on his flesh from slipping so much.
Sexual Orientation: Unknown -- he's been celibate due to mating restrictions (i.e. virgin)
Likes:
- Literature -- Books are something he has in abundance. There is an entire section of his cave dwelling stuffed to the brim with pillars of books. Arthur occupies much of his time alone with reading. This is one of the few pasttimes that he has been able to enjoy since his childhood, so books are amongst his most prized pieces of treasure.
- Tea -- In human form, this is a beverage that Arthur always drinks. There is something calming about tea. He finds that he can relax better with a cup of tea in his hand.
- Alcohol -- Never a good idea for him to drink it no matter how much he likes it. Alcohol + dragon = dangerous combination. It just tastes so good.
- Music -- This is another thing that Arthur has always loved. He enjoys listening to rock and roll and pop music. While he likes opera or classical music, they have a bad habit of causing him to fall asleep. Or putting him into a trance.
- BBC Television -- everything else stops when his programmes are on. Arthur has an addiction to the television shows that are on this channel, watching them religiously. He will drop everything to sit in front of the screen to watch them.
- Reptiles -- These are creatures that he finds adorable. When he sees his distant kinfolk in the wild, he'll often coo at them like apes do their babies. Lizards, snakes -- he finds them cuter than any other creature on the planet.
- Caves -- Arthur prefers cave life to any other form of residence. He likes finding new caves to check them out in the same way that people look at home interior magazines. There are always new ideas to contemplate for cave decoration.
- Films -- he is especially amused by How To Tame Your Dragon. Arthur has learnt much about human behaviour and how to assimilate himself from watching movies. They are part of his extensive collection, and he has all ranges of genres in his possession that he'll put on when he remembers how to work the DVD player.
- Teacups -- something about them causes him to love them. Probably because they are beautiful, yet so fragile, and holding them in his hands makes Arthur feel closer to human to be handling something of such delicacy.
- The colour red -- He likes wearing red. He likes blood. Rubies are his favourite type of jewelry. Anything having to do with that particular colour automatically draws Arthur in.
- Puzzles/Riddles -- Anything that can stimulate his mind is fascinating to Arthur. He likes puzzles, chess, mind teasers and riddles because they give him a challenge to his brain.
- Shiny things/"treasure" -- He's got a serious compulsion when it comes to collecting. Anything shiny, or that he might perceive as having a value, Arthur has to have. He tends to become easily obsessed with objects and will aquire them through purchase or theft if he has to.
Dislikes:
- Water -- Being a creature of fire, he prefers a dry cave to a wet one. Arthur tries to stay away from water as much as possible. And if there is even the slightest possibility of rain, he'll bring an umbrella with him everywhere he goes.
- Knights -- Fortunately these are more extinct than his race. Considering all the tales of knights slaying dragons in stories, Arthur doesn't favour them too much.
- Cold Temperatures/Winter -- The reptile in his blood is uncomfortable in frigid temperatures. Arthur bundles up to protect himself against getting too cold. Otherwise, it slows him down to the point of paralysis since his blood does not do well at low temperatures, even with his thick hide. He keeps indoors much of the time during the winter months for this reason.
- Modern Technology -- Arthur prefers doing things "the old fashioned way". He writes letters instead of e-mail. Doesn't own a cellphone -- just a landline at the shoppe. The only thing that he really likes is televisions and radios. The rest, he could probably do without.
- Aircraft -- They are a nuisance. Always getting in his way, or buzzing near him, traveling carelessly fast in the air. Arthur has yet to meet an aeroplane that he's liked. After getting his claws on one that was sleeping on the ground once, he tore the wings off as a trophy. They're currently wedged into the rock face opening of his cave dwelling.
- Cramped Spaces -- This is an easy one to figure out. Arthur dislikes being stuck in small spaces for long in public. He is fine in his shoppe because that is his 'space' and he perceives ownership over it. Anywhere else that he doesn't know, he'll try to avoid a prolonged stay.
- Aggressive Suitors -- Arthur's unique existence causes him to gain unwanted attention sometimes. He wouldn't hesitate to bite someone if they pushed him beyond his patience. Having someone force breeding on him would likely get them slain before they even began.
- Eggs(In Food) -- He can't be near them. Even if they aren't of his breed, it's still difficult not to feel an uncomfortable similarity between the unfortunate egg and his own birth.
Interests/Hobbies:
- Collecting the Occult -- Items of magical value are ones that Arthur likes. The shoppe that he inherited from his grandfather shows that hoarding things is a family trait. Most of the time when people try to purchase things from the shoppe, Arthur will turn them away empty-handed because he can't let any of the items go. So his inventory remains mostly unmoved since he obtained the shoppe. He still employs staff just to mostly watch the place and make sure nothing catches fire.
- Collecting Things/Hoarding -- He has a huge cave dwelling that is full of things. Automobiles, antiques, relics, money from all kinds of countries and some of it ancient. Arthur piles them all into his cave to keep them safe from others. He can't get rid of anything, so when one cavern becomes full he just adds to another.
- Gardening -- Growing things for himself gives the Englishman a feeling of satisfaction. He has created an entire garden that runs alongside the steep, dangerous pathway to his cave entrance. Arthur prefers the natural taste of organic food over the processed rubbish that is popular with the masses today.
- Embroidery -- This is a calming hobby. It helps Arthur concentrate on something long enough to let his thoughts stop wandering. He just never finishes most of the projects that he starts.
- Hunting -- A dragon's appetite is huge. Even in his human form. Arthur has no preference to which form he is in when it comes to hunting down his dinner. His body can process bone and bits of things without issue, so eating an entire cow in one sitting is far more satisfying to him than snacking upon a hamburger. To keep up appearances, he'll sit down to normal dinners with others, but these meals never leave him satisfied.
- Caving/Spelunking -- Exploring new caves in his human form is an activity that Arthur likes to do in his free time. Being around others that enjoy caves as much as he does gives him a feeling of kinship with them for a temporary time. He is a member of a local caving club for this very reason.
- Karaoke - a secret love of his. Unfortunately, he can't sing in front of people he knows. Or while sober.
Aspirations:
- Finding a Mate/Companion -- His breed mates with one person for life. He is pressured by the burden of his blood to have an heir to pass it to. Unfortunately, there are no other dragons of his ilk to be found in the world as much as his family has tried. Arthur has been searching on his own for a viable candidate for his mate. He can't afford to get it wrong by testing out casual flings like other people. Once Arthur mates with someone, there is no hope for him turning back from what will turn into a complete and utter obsession with his mate.
- Discovering His Heritage -- Arthur doesn't know who his father is. His mother has only given him vague hints to put the dragon on a path to knowing how he came to be the creature that he is. It led him to contacting his grandfather, but Arthur was never able to meet him face to face either. Arthur inherited books of lore concerning his breed that he has been researching lately in the hopes that he might learn more about the ancient dragons that are said to be extinct.
- Success in Business -- He'd like his shoppe to do well. It's just difficult for him to balance between wanting to make money and wanting to keep the items in his inventory. Arthur knows there is potential for the business. Being able to support himself in the event that he gets cut off from his relatives completely would give him the reassurance he needs that he'll be okay in the long run on his own.
Fears:
- Accidental Mating -- Dragons mate for life. While others might separate the idea of sex and breeding, there's a true fear in the dragon that he might end up getting locked into a lifelong loyalty to someone by accident. He's read enough tales to know what his idea of romance is -- mutual lifelong loyalty from his mate. If he were to end up chained to someone that did not feel the same way then it would cause him endless depression.
- Forced Seclusion -- Arthur's natural form tends to cause terror in people. He fears what life will be like if everyone were to turn against him for being such an unnatural creature of such immense size. The last thing he wants is to end up like his grandfather; a recluse in a cave that never ventures out or builds relationships. He's worried that this will be his same fate in the end of his life.
- Being Childless -- Having his string of dragon blood go extinct because he cannot produce an heir to his legacy is a frightful concern of his. Arthur doesn't want to have to resort to breeding into his family line if he can avoid it. The older he gets, the more it's starting to weigh on his mind that he might never have an egg of his own.
- Flying(Aeroplanes) -- He finds them too cramped and too dangerous. He doesn't trust their wings to keep him up in the air. It's easier for him to fly on his own than deal with air flight like other people.
Personality:
Arthur is more like a dragon learning how to be an ape. So his emotional reactions to situations are wired oddly. His default emotion is anger; it's just part of his breed to be rage monsters. He has enough reason in his brain to know that this is no way to live if he hopes to be part of the world around him. So Arthur spent many longer years since his difficult childhood learning how to portray himself as a stable, normal person. However, he can't completely shake the gruff mannerisms of his core self and has difficulty expressing himself in ways that make sense to others. He is sensitive about his shortcomings for that reason due to being so hyperaware of how other people react to him.
His childhood of growing up in a cave stunted his social development enough that he is still childish in many ways. If Arthur wants something, he gets it. Or else he holds a mini tantrum. He can be selfish and greedy at times. Being a one of a kind creature, he's on the spoiled side when it comes to getting his way. Arthur isn't used to being refused anything and will react poorly when confronted with the word "No". He's reclusive by nature, keeping to himself when it comes to people that he doesn't know well. Those that interest him are more likely to capture his attention. Arthur will immediately target these individuals with the intent to measure them out as a potential mate. It's not even a conscious thing that he does; just instinct. Those judged as a mate candidate become an instant obsession for him.
Arthur is serious by default. He does his best to hide his sadness because it makes him feel awkward to have others perceive such vulnerability in him. But his common habit of locking himself away from others is a sign of this clinging depression. He'd prefer to wallow privately instead of letting others see him in such a condition. When Arthur is sad in public, he channels this into gruff behaviour to deflect from the core issue. He would rather have people think that he is just grumpy than to address any underlying problem. This shows in Arthur’s love for dark things, macabre relics and literature or poetry that suits his black moods. He gravitates towards things that reflect his inner darkness.
The fact that Arthur is a horribly sappy romantic is the world’s worst kept secret. He is much enamoured of the old fairytales, and romance novels that are a good chunk of his massive book collection. Arthur believes firmly in the concept of undying love, chivalry and sacrificing everything for a lover. While marriage has never been as important as the idea of finding a mate, Arthur is envious of those who are. He is rather embarrassed by this aspect of his personality and tries not to let any of this on. In a world where it is common to put those ape-like rituals aside for the sake of one's breed Arthur does not advertise the fact that he would prefer to have an arrangement where it was all included. His reaction to occasions where others make some gesture that could be romantic is a dead giveaway.
Arthur's temper is explosive. There is passion inside the dragon despite what his composure would let on. If the circumstances are right, he can demonstrate that he is capable of being brutal to ape and beast alike. Arthur contains a dark rage within him that is thankfully rarely stirred. Sometimes it surfaces when he settles for getting violent with those who deserve it, or those that slight his dragonic pride to the point where his control is snapped. The fact that he once tore the wings off of an aeroplane in his irritation with them shows that the dragon can lash out in the worst ways when crossed. That doesn't even cover the damage that can be done when his temper boils over enough to make the world burn.
Family:
- Miriam Kirkland (Mother)
- Father (Unknown; deceased)
- Brother (Scotland)
- Brother (Wales)
- Brother (N. Ireland)
- Sibling (Ireland - m/f)
- Grandfather (Unknown; deceased)
He lives on his own yet keeps in contact with his family through written letters. There has been talk about Arthur potentially breeding with one of his siblings if no other suitable match can be found but he is having none of that so far.
Brief History:
Arthur was hatched out of an egg like others of his ilk. Unlike others, he had to learn how to shape his zuman form because his natural size was larger than a human's. His mother, already abandoned by Arthur's father, opted to keep the dragonling in his cave home until he had mastered the transitions well enough to keep his unique self hidden from the eyes of unwanted admirers. Growing up in a cave stunted much of his social development. Arthur is still just crawling out of his infancy phase in many respects.
Being a fire-breathing dragon, like the ones of legend, puts Arthur in a difficult position. He is one of a kind. And that makes him valuable to those with a mind to breed. Arthur has kept himself distanced from others for that reason. He's been a recluse for the majority of his life for that reason, and spent most of his time with his mother while they searched for possible mates that Arthur could pass his legacy on to. However, the search turned up nothing. When she began talking about the possibility of breeding within the family, that was when Arthur turned to his estranged paternal grandfather for assistance. The man did not come seek out the young man in person. However, one day out of the blue, Arthur was notified that his grandfather had passed away and left all of his possessions to Arthur alone.
This provided Arthur with a cave all of his own, an occult shoppe in the city, and a private home in the woods. He took this chance to escape out from under his mother's thumb with promises that he would continue the search for a mate. He has been steadily writing her, even if he has to lie, and tell her about all the "prospects" that he has found. She continues to pressure Arthur with the idea of inter-family breeding even though he has been enjoying living on his own away from the rest of the Kirkland clan. Part of this is what motivates Arthur to avoid his siblings because he doesn't want those complications in his life when he is just getting it balanced.
OOC
Name/Alias; Hat
Age; 32
Favorite Pairings; UK x world, UKRo, EngScot, UKSP, UKUS
Do you want to be Cbox, Thread, or Both?: Both
Did you read the rules?
I know of sin by the things momma prayed
I know of heaven by the line at it's gate
Heard of a kingdom that's not far away
Come drink the water if you want to be saved
Age; 32
Favorite Pairings; UK x world, UKRo, EngScot, UKSP, UKUS
Do you want to be Cbox, Thread, or Both?: Both
Did you read the rules?
I know of sin by the things momma prayed
I know of heaven by the line at it's gate
Heard of a kingdom that's not far away
Come drink the water if you want to be saved
It was the scent of death that first snared his attention.
This wasn't so much an actual smell. Even with the absence of a body, that kind of energy imprinted itself on an area. Arthur had often trod upon places that felt heavy from that potent reverberation of past loss; a snapshot taken in the final seconds of a life, forever superimposed on the location. The Manor was brimming with these moments captured in time and every step felt like an ending. This was the Menai Massacre. This was Trafalgar. This was No Man's Land and Normandy and the death camps all piled together in one mass grave, contained within walls.
Sometimes the weight of it was so much that Arthur wished he could not sense energies of any kind, if just to escape. He had tucked himself away from it as much as possible. Nowhere here was untainted. And buried beneath this heap of despair was the ever present mark of evil. Without company, his mind turned to thoughts of mortality that were better left unexplored. It came to a head when he looked down to the Magnum holstered at his hip and debated whether a bullet might solve the issue of the negative energies pressing at his aura from all around. He took a walk instead.
Carrying a torch with him everywhere he went lent an element of danger. Arthur didn't trust any other source of light here. Plus, while the illumination of that torch was a beacon that signaled his location to hostile forces, it also served as a handy weapon if he needed one. Fire was a force of destruction that the Englishman would never hesitate to use. Evil creatures generally steered clear of its purifying effects. Really, no matter if one was good or evil, the idea of getting burnt was a universal no-go worth avoidance. Arthur counted on that line of reasoning for most of his operations inside of this prison. He kept that lit torch extended ahead of him to light his path. The fire chased the shadows away. It eliminated the darkness.
A glint caught his eye as Arthur passed a crumbled section of wall. The room inside was pitch black beyond that fallen mess of plaster, wood and debris. It didn't look structurally sound in the least. Even the boards beneath his feet groaned when his weight pressed upon them. He altered his movements to creeping caution. Better safe than sorry. The Englishman might have dismissed the glint as a figment of his imagination if it did not sparkle in the corner of his eye a second time. There was something metallic that the light of his torch reflected on. Anything metal could prove valuable.
Arthur crouched down in the corridor. The light wouldn't fully reach whatever the item was no matter what angle he directed his torch. Closer to it now, he could feel a strange aura exuding from it. Not a bad magic, like everything else tainted here. That alone intrigued him. If he wanted it for himself then he'd have to reach into the precarious balance of fallen bits to get it. Arthur was paranoid enough to wonder if it wasn't a trap devised by the forces here. Wouldn't it be silly if he managed to get himself killed over an unidentified bit of metal? He'd deserve his death if that were the case.
He settled both knees upon the mouldering carpet. One hand kept the torch clutched tightly while Arthur carefully extended the other into that space of contained darkness, beneath thick blocks of shattered concrete exposed from when the wall had collapsed. His fingers felt around blindly at the spot where he thought he'd seen that glint. "...Ah ha!"
Success! He could feel the gold texture of the hard metal brush his fingertips, reaching further to close his grasp around it. The energy from that item gave off a warm heat in opposition to the metal's frigid temperature; a welcoming vibe of power that thrummed at the touch of his humanoid contact. That initial tug proved that the thing was stuck to something. Arthur frowned deeply, his other fingers splaying out to attempt identifying what it was that held the thing in place. There was something familiar about the textures beneath his touch that he couldn't put his finger on. He braced his strength and gave a strong pull. The snare holding his intended prize came free with that force, allowing Arthur to draw it out victoriously into the light of his torch.
It was a ring.
Still attached to the skeletal hand that he'd just broken off.
Arthur turned two shades simultaneously; sickly green chased by pale white. He dropped the ghastly appendage to the floor near his knees to wipe his hand hurriedly against the leg of his trousers. "Coo, that's nasty." Arthur muttered with a grimace while staring down at the hand of bones there on the floor beside him. His mouth remained twisted in distaste as he pinched hold of the ring again, this time working more carefully to slide the thing off the remnants of a finger that had wasted away all its flesh with time. The rest of the body must have been buried under the collapsed wall. Had someone been trying to escape only to become entombed by the Manor?
If that were the case, then the spirit attached to the body under that pile of rubble might not have been at peace. It was a shame that he wasn't much of a religious man, in orthodox terms. People generally raised an eyebrow whenever Arthur detailed the ways that he worshipped. Certain practices had simply fallen out of fashion over time, and even modern day pagans were quaint by his standards. Still, Arthur couldn't walk away without an attempt to alleviate the plight of a potentially restless spirit. He'd been hanging around Catholics and Christians long enough to have a general grasp of how they went about situations like this.
He was already on his knees anyway. That was a good start.
The Englishman looked around quickly, pocketing the ring. Then he made an awkward Sign of the Cross that was likely backwards, then clasped his hands together in a praying(ish) fold around the stem of his lit torch. His eyes darted sheepishly skyward with the guilty expression of someone that knows they haven't done much to garner favours from Higher Powers and is plugging in to the Heavenly Network for the first time. "Um." Already this prayer was lacking in eloquence. Arthur pressed on with blurting speed and halting stops.
"Dear God, Baby Jesus, Adult Jesus, angels and et cetera. Hello. We haven't talked much. And I know I'm horrendously guilty of taking your name 'in vain' on a nearly daily basis. So should you choose to ignore this, I completely understand your side of things. However, if you could possibly see fit to . . . put this soul to rest if they're stuck here, that would be smashing. Ye, though I walk through the... er... pastures of Death, thy loaf of bread is mighty and that is really swell. Ashes to Ashes; Dust to Dust, we all fall down. And may they dwell in your house -- or, really, any house but this one -- forever and ever. Amen."
It wasn't perfect. Shakespeare was probably rolling over in his grave. Arthur had done his best. One couldn't expect him to deliver a perfect eulogy without at least being on a first name basis with whatever unlucky sod was buried under all that rubble. It would have to do. He pushed up to totter on his feet, then pinched a hold of the hand to stuff it back in with the rest of the body. The last thing he needed was to come across a ghostly hand skittering about the place in search of the rest of its earthly remains. Better to air on the side of caution with that business. With the hand now out of sight, Arthur rubbed his fingers off on his trousers again to chase off the sensation of them being soiled. He paused when he heard a sound of movement further down the hallway.
The ghost hand already?!
Arthur twisted around, swinging around the light of his torch as he sought to face whoever (or whatever) was closing in upon him. "Who's there? Identify yourself, or face the wrath of my... brick." He reached to the pile of rubble and lifted one of the chunks, testing its weight. Green eyes squinted at the movement of shadows just beyond the light of his torch and he braced himself for the worst.
This wasn't so much an actual smell. Even with the absence of a body, that kind of energy imprinted itself on an area. Arthur had often trod upon places that felt heavy from that potent reverberation of past loss; a snapshot taken in the final seconds of a life, forever superimposed on the location. The Manor was brimming with these moments captured in time and every step felt like an ending. This was the Menai Massacre. This was Trafalgar. This was No Man's Land and Normandy and the death camps all piled together in one mass grave, contained within walls.
Sometimes the weight of it was so much that Arthur wished he could not sense energies of any kind, if just to escape. He had tucked himself away from it as much as possible. Nowhere here was untainted. And buried beneath this heap of despair was the ever present mark of evil. Without company, his mind turned to thoughts of mortality that were better left unexplored. It came to a head when he looked down to the Magnum holstered at his hip and debated whether a bullet might solve the issue of the negative energies pressing at his aura from all around. He took a walk instead.
Carrying a torch with him everywhere he went lent an element of danger. Arthur didn't trust any other source of light here. Plus, while the illumination of that torch was a beacon that signaled his location to hostile forces, it also served as a handy weapon if he needed one. Fire was a force of destruction that the Englishman would never hesitate to use. Evil creatures generally steered clear of its purifying effects. Really, no matter if one was good or evil, the idea of getting burnt was a universal no-go worth avoidance. Arthur counted on that line of reasoning for most of his operations inside of this prison. He kept that lit torch extended ahead of him to light his path. The fire chased the shadows away. It eliminated the darkness.
A glint caught his eye as Arthur passed a crumbled section of wall. The room inside was pitch black beyond that fallen mess of plaster, wood and debris. It didn't look structurally sound in the least. Even the boards beneath his feet groaned when his weight pressed upon them. He altered his movements to creeping caution. Better safe than sorry. The Englishman might have dismissed the glint as a figment of his imagination if it did not sparkle in the corner of his eye a second time. There was something metallic that the light of his torch reflected on. Anything metal could prove valuable.
Arthur crouched down in the corridor. The light wouldn't fully reach whatever the item was no matter what angle he directed his torch. Closer to it now, he could feel a strange aura exuding from it. Not a bad magic, like everything else tainted here. That alone intrigued him. If he wanted it for himself then he'd have to reach into the precarious balance of fallen bits to get it. Arthur was paranoid enough to wonder if it wasn't a trap devised by the forces here. Wouldn't it be silly if he managed to get himself killed over an unidentified bit of metal? He'd deserve his death if that were the case.
He settled both knees upon the mouldering carpet. One hand kept the torch clutched tightly while Arthur carefully extended the other into that space of contained darkness, beneath thick blocks of shattered concrete exposed from when the wall had collapsed. His fingers felt around blindly at the spot where he thought he'd seen that glint. "...Ah ha!"
Success! He could feel the gold texture of the hard metal brush his fingertips, reaching further to close his grasp around it. The energy from that item gave off a warm heat in opposition to the metal's frigid temperature; a welcoming vibe of power that thrummed at the touch of his humanoid contact. That initial tug proved that the thing was stuck to something. Arthur frowned deeply, his other fingers splaying out to attempt identifying what it was that held the thing in place. There was something familiar about the textures beneath his touch that he couldn't put his finger on. He braced his strength and gave a strong pull. The snare holding his intended prize came free with that force, allowing Arthur to draw it out victoriously into the light of his torch.
It was a ring.
Still attached to the skeletal hand that he'd just broken off.
Arthur turned two shades simultaneously; sickly green chased by pale white. He dropped the ghastly appendage to the floor near his knees to wipe his hand hurriedly against the leg of his trousers. "Coo, that's nasty." Arthur muttered with a grimace while staring down at the hand of bones there on the floor beside him. His mouth remained twisted in distaste as he pinched hold of the ring again, this time working more carefully to slide the thing off the remnants of a finger that had wasted away all its flesh with time. The rest of the body must have been buried under the collapsed wall. Had someone been trying to escape only to become entombed by the Manor?
If that were the case, then the spirit attached to the body under that pile of rubble might not have been at peace. It was a shame that he wasn't much of a religious man, in orthodox terms. People generally raised an eyebrow whenever Arthur detailed the ways that he worshipped. Certain practices had simply fallen out of fashion over time, and even modern day pagans were quaint by his standards. Still, Arthur couldn't walk away without an attempt to alleviate the plight of a potentially restless spirit. He'd been hanging around Catholics and Christians long enough to have a general grasp of how they went about situations like this.
He was already on his knees anyway. That was a good start.
The Englishman looked around quickly, pocketing the ring. Then he made an awkward Sign of the Cross that was likely backwards, then clasped his hands together in a praying(ish) fold around the stem of his lit torch. His eyes darted sheepishly skyward with the guilty expression of someone that knows they haven't done much to garner favours from Higher Powers and is plugging in to the Heavenly Network for the first time. "Um." Already this prayer was lacking in eloquence. Arthur pressed on with blurting speed and halting stops.
"Dear God, Baby Jesus, Adult Jesus, angels and et cetera. Hello. We haven't talked much. And I know I'm horrendously guilty of taking your name 'in vain' on a nearly daily basis. So should you choose to ignore this, I completely understand your side of things. However, if you could possibly see fit to . . . put this soul to rest if they're stuck here, that would be smashing. Ye, though I walk through the... er... pastures of Death, thy loaf of bread is mighty and that is really swell. Ashes to Ashes; Dust to Dust, we all fall down. And may they dwell in your house -- or, really, any house but this one -- forever and ever. Amen."
It wasn't perfect. Shakespeare was probably rolling over in his grave. Arthur had done his best. One couldn't expect him to deliver a perfect eulogy without at least being on a first name basis with whatever unlucky sod was buried under all that rubble. It would have to do. He pushed up to totter on his feet, then pinched a hold of the hand to stuff it back in with the rest of the body. The last thing he needed was to come across a ghostly hand skittering about the place in search of the rest of its earthly remains. Better to air on the side of caution with that business. With the hand now out of sight, Arthur rubbed his fingers off on his trousers again to chase off the sensation of them being soiled. He paused when he heard a sound of movement further down the hallway.
The ghost hand already?!
Arthur twisted around, swinging around the light of his torch as he sought to face whoever (or whatever) was closing in upon him. "Who's there? Identify yourself, or face the wrath of my... brick." He reached to the pile of rubble and lifted one of the chunks, testing its weight. Green eyes squinted at the movement of shadows just beyond the light of his torch and he braced himself for the worst.
