apocalypsehowcomm | I’m a maker of fine graves // Open Log

Who: Caduceus Clay

thatsreallygreat and YOU
When: post event
Where: ADI, Bonnie's, Dogtown, random park
Summary: Open prompts; happy to match style
Notes: visual reference for Caduceus's human disguise when he's off ADI property; (source)
Warnings: instrument that makes a sound like a person screaming; general references to death/decay

Bonnie's

Helping Bonnie with projects around the house is one way to get a little extra earnings, and Caduceus is happy to do it. He's tall, so at some point Bonnie sent him around to change lightbulbs all around the house - including in rooms where people are staying. He'll knock first, of course, and hold up a lightbulb with a bemused smile.

"Come to add a little light to your life." He thinks he's hilarious, thank you. "It'll only take a minute, or I can come back when you go out."

Sometimes he can be found down in the communal kitchen, cooking relatively large meals for anyone who might want to grab something to eat. Everything he cooks is vegetarian, though if someone requests a meat dish, he might be willing to make it. He'll just need someone else around to do the tasting. When he can, Caduceus does both breakfast and dinner. And if anyone wants to keep him company while he cooks - or better yet, help him - he'd welcome that.

And when the house is quiet, Caduceus might be found in his room, all seven feet of him crammed into a bed that does not fit him. He doesn't complain... though he does tend to leave the door open, even when he's sleeping, to avoid feeling too closed in.

ADI

Medical
"I don't want to die--"

"Mr. Smith, you aren't going to die, but we do need to treat that injury." The nurse standing by the bedside is clearly trying not to sound too exasperated. Caduceus, for his part, stays placidly behind her. And towers over her. The man in the bed doesn't sound placated.

"I heard what he is. People say things he touches die."

"Well, that isn't exactly accurate," Caduceus chimes in, calm despite the roundabout accusation that he might be killing patients. "I am a healer."

The patient doesn't seem willing to budge, though, and looks at the pink firbolg like he might be Death itself. The nurse gives Caduceus an apologetic look, but he bows out, thinking it better that he not aggravate a somewhat hysterical patient. Instead, he finds another occupied bed and approaches, hoping that the somewhat loud conversation wouldn't put anyone else off.

"Hi, I'm Caduceus. What are you here for today?"

Counseling
He shares a room with some of the other counselors, though they are never in there at the same time, and Caduceus has added a few personal touches as he can. Plants, in particular. They brighten up the space. He also find a comfortable rug that matches absolutely nothing else in the room. He likes it and so far the other counselors that use this room haven't removed it.

He gets water heating for tea, tickled by the electric kettle and willing to admit its convenience. He sets out his own box of loose-leaf tea along with whatever ADI has on hand.

Caduceus looks up when he realizes someone is in the doorway.

"Hey, need someone to talk to?"

The Bone Flute

After checking through the bag that arrived with him, Caduceus is delighted to find his bone flute. He almost blows into it right there in Bonnie's, then thinks better of it. Instead, he heads outside and finds a relatively quiet park. There don't seem to be a lot of people around and he picks a spot under a tree.

He runs his long fingers over the flute, smiling at the memory of finding it. Keone had been strange, but he liked her. He liked the harp she'd made for Yasha, too, and in that moment he misses Yasha. It'd be nice to sit with her and play their weird instruments. He'll just have to do so in memory of her, and hope that she is will and safe wherever she is.

The trouble is, the flute... doesn't exactly make the sort of music that most people might recognize as music. He blows the first note, and it sounds like a person shrieking. Caduceus pauses and nods a bit as he gets comfortable holding the flute again. Actually playing it means the duration of the notes is shorter - and sometimes longer - and it creates the most eerie cacophony.

And if someone rushes into the park, worried that someone is dying, well... it wouldn't be the first time.

Dogtown

Caduceus is taking advantage of some decent weather.

He heads toward Dogtown at a leisurely pace and picks a trail that feels right. He carries his staff with him, though for the most part he's only been using it as a walking stick and... well... a whacking stick. The last time he tried to call on his spiritual guardians, they had swarmed him and he isn't eager to try that again just yet.

Now and then he closes his eyes as he walks, just sort of taking in everything without seeing it. Caduceus stops when he sees a boulder that strikes him as appealing. He stands for a long moment, considering it. It feels like the right place to stop. He leans his staff against the rock and runs his hands over it before climbing onto it. He arranges himself somewhere comfortable and takes his straw hat off, leaving it in his lap. Back straight, eyes closed again, Caduceus tries opening himself up, searching for the Wildmother.

He feels... something. It isn't her, but there's almost like an echo of her. An aspect. And a familiar one, at that.

He breathes in deep and exhales slowly. He can hear and smell the life all around him, but there's far more than that. There always is. Beneath fallen leaves there is decay and growth. He can smell the damp earth, made rich by death and able to sustain the living. Agents of change move and grow: insects, fungi, scavengers. In a moment, he is as aware of the inevitability of it all, the natural process that will continue whether or not anyone wants it to. No matter how much interference there is, death will always happen. It is grounding in a way that the understanding of that cycle always has been. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Clay to clay.

As his mind wanders, he thinks of the strange roots he's seen. Meditating like this, he becomes vaguely aware of them again. And he is vaguely aware that he has manipulated them in the past by casting Path to the Grave. He'd seen the dark tendrils wrap around the kelpie moments before Tak killed it.

Caduceus feels a faint, warm breeze and it brings a serene smile to his face. He tips his head into it, comforted by it, just as he is comforted by the cool of the rock beneath him. Life and death. One can not exist without the other. And he is content in knowing this.

Anyone approaching the rock along the path will certainly notice the awkward-looking human with pink hair sitting on it, apparently meditating. They might also notice the ring of mushrooms that have sprouted up around it in a spiral.

Wildcard

[Please feel free to toss a scene my way if you have something you want to play out! I'm also happy to write more specific starts, so let me know if you'd like one. You can PM me here or find me at

givemedragons; also happy to exchange discord information. I will likely update this with event prompts as needed when that goes up.

When he is not on ADI property, Caduceus looks like a very tall, lanky human with pink hair and pierced ears.

Oh, also happy to match style! If you prefer brackets, go for it.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Grave Cleric.

Elias had never heard that phrase before, but it didn’t take a genius to understand what it meant, where he aligned. Was cleric interchangeable with avatar? A new terminology that Oliver made up? It wouldn’t surprise him; the avatars for The End were

unnerving

something unique unto their own.

The look in Elias’ eyes hardened slightly, his back a little straighter.

“I can understand why that might …worrisome to him. Doctors tend to focus on the ‘keeping one living’ part rather than the opposite.”

His smile widened, trying to add a hint of curiosity to it. And he was curious, yes he was.

“May I ask, what is a grave cleric?”

"I do too, as often as I can."

He doesn't want people to die (usually), but death is the natural end of life and there is no getting around that. Still, he notices the shift in the man's posture and the look in his eyes. Caduceus flicks his tail. Curious. And it seems Elias is curious, too, despite his possible misgivings.

"We put the dead to rest and make sure the dead stay dead. We ease the suffering of the dying. We can hold off death through healing and other interventions, like other clerics. We comfort the living."

Caduceus shrugs, unperturbed by the philosophy and commandments he follows.

"My family has been tending a graveyard for generations."

Everything this person said sounded worse by the minute. The words hung at the back of his mind, an anxious drop of promise in the: We put the dead to rest and make sure the dead stay dead.

What a Terminus thing to say.

“You must be rather helpful against a …what is it called, ‘zombie invasion’ then?” There was a laugh, repeatedly reminding himself underneath that he was not dead, would not die, he just needed a little longer. It didn’t matter what Jon and Martin said, what blood they had arrived him, claiming it was his own.

He was not dead.

He was not dead.

“Ah, so a family business?” And there was a fond memory of generations of fog, of Lukas’ and their cold detachment. “At least you know where they go when they end.”

Caduceus actually chuckles and a smile grows on his face.

"Yeah, that's... exactly what we do, actually. A big part of it." Despite the congeniality of the conversation, there is a current of things beneath Elias's smile and laugh. Caduceus watches closely, piercing and yet somehow not overtly threatening. Elias's discomfort is becoming palpable, but he doesn't draw attention to it.

"It's not really a business. We were tasked with keeping the Blooming Grove, and so we do. More of a sacred duty."

“Sacred duty?” It reminded him, in ways, of the Cult of the Lightless Flame, if only in the dedication. Cults often had those odd sacred duties, didn’t they?

“So a non-traditional religion sense? Or a personal calling for your entire family line?”

The urge to know details was suddenly low on his list of priorities, but motivations? They helped with convictions, with how far one would follow the letter of their decision.

He didn’t want to know.

He needed to. A person could be manipulated by their passions.

“I am assuming that the Blooming Grove is not here.”

"Personal calling for the family line, though the goddess we serve is widely known. Both of them. After the ascension of the Matron of Ravens, three of her champions were tasked with disposing of the body of a hero of the war. They prayed to her for guidance and she told them she'd already taken what is hers, and turned them to the Wildmother. The Wildmother gave each champion a vision instructing them to divide the body and take it to the places they saw in their visions."

This is a story he has heard since birth, and though he doesn't have a reason to tell it often, it still means something each time he does. And, for a moment, Caduceus allows himself to miss his family. But then he meets Elias's gaze again and continues:

"Clay wandered a forest until he found a spring of water surrounded by crystalline stone. There Melora told him he should bury the head of the hero, and upon that site will be a garden whose flora shall be her gift to The Archeart to remind her that nature is beautiful. The three families - Clay, Dust, and Stone - have accepted and guarded the dead since then. So, yeah. Sacred duty."

It sounded like a myth, something made up by the Greeks or the Norse. Most likely, it was something handed down through the family, year after year, a tangled of words that got molded over time into this noble tale; there were shades of similar things across the world. Heroes, gods, sacred duties.

It was just a way to feel important.

He kept his smile, however thin it is. “It must be difficult to be away from a place that is so sacred to you and your familiar.” His hands slid into his pockets, weight shifting from one foot to the other.

“I hope we can get you back there soon.”

And out of here.

"I miss my family and my home. I miss my friends. But I'm sure there will be a way back when my purpose here is done, whatever that may be."

He understands, more or less, what ADI is doing and what they are asking of the people that arrive here, but he is still figuring out his own role in all of this. What exactly he needs to do and how he can best help.

Caduceus's gaze is steady as he watches Elias Bouchard. He suspects the man doesn't believe him, or is brushing off what he's said as myth or fable. That's okay. If his belief is necessary for something, Caduceus is quite sure the world will find a way to make him see. But it's not particularly important to him, not right now.

He also can't help but notice the way the man shifts his weight, the way his hands disappear into pockets. Nervous?

"You sure you're all right, Mr. Bouchard?"

There was a strange peace, something easy that came with a realization like that, and Elias felt none of it. Caduceus seemed fine with being here, but why? A “purpose”?

Those aligned with The End were always so…strange. This weird calm philosophy while spouting philosophy on the nature of it all. It was about nothingness. It was about the erasure of one’s self.

But he had found a loophole. He had found a way to win.

“Quite fine.” His smile this political and thin. “I suppose I’m just still feeling for that poor man who seemed bothered by your presence. People often don’t enjoy listening to another in distress.”

Except him. He thrived on it normally.

“But since Ms. Graves is not here, I should be on my way. I can check back another time.”

"Some people," he agrees, eyes still fixed on Elias. He's met the type that would.

As Elias excuses himself, Caduceus gives a polite nod of his head. He still wonders what this man wants to Mercy, but that's her business, not his.

"I also work in the counseling center. Feel free to stop by if you ever want to talk, Mr. Bouchard."

His voice was dry as he began to walk away.

“I will keep that in mind.”

At least, in mind to avoid it and him. But those were not things to be shared aloud.

He would have to keep an eye on this one. Caduceus.

How he hated The End.

I’m a maker of fine graves // Open Log

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