[closed] like the stories that you keep inside your head

[clockgears]

Who: Ozpin, Viktor, Arthur
What: Codebreaking
Where: Jefferson Market Library
When: Early-mid July
Warnings: tbd

Ozpin has always been a firm believer in the power of cooperation, so he's a little smug that he's already managed to coordinate one such bout of cooperation.

He doesn't look smug, at least. He waits patiently at the corner outside 'his' library, looking like he could be any random civilian if not for the distinctly post-apocalyptic aesthetic of the city surrounding him. He shouldn't be hard to locate. It's not just that he's tall and one of the only people out and about; 'a clock tower' is a pretty distinctive landmark, and 'the corner of 10th street and 6th avenue' isn't exactly hard to find.

So he waits, and he lifts a hand to wave a greeting at whichever of the two arrives first; Viktor seemed to think his appearance would be alarming, so it's probably easy to tell which is which.

— — — — —

Once everyone has arrived and introductions have been made, Ozpin leads their little party inside. The room he leads them to very clearly used to be the children's section of the library, judging by the short tables and brightly colored book displays. But Ozpin has been at work since he arrived here. The child-sized tables has been pushed aside and an adult-sized table has been dragged over from elsewhere. Most critically, the adult-sized table has been bedecked with supplies. Pencils, papers, copies of the message Ozpin received...

And the most critical supply: expired instant coffee. A single unopened jar of it stands proudly on the table next to a trio of mugs. On the circulation desk nearby is a jury-rigged coal 'stove' atop which sits a gently steaming teakettle.

"I'm afraid it's not much, but please: make yourself at home."

Comments

[pointedlook]

[ Already used to navigating around Manhattan, getting himself to the corner of 10th st and 6th ave is an easy thing.

It's a bit of a walk, from where he'd holed up the last few nights–the Intercontinental NY Barclay, he's always liked the modern windows mixed with art deco interior–but, he's not going to complain about stretching his legs. He makes sure to bring the notebook he'd been slowly puzzling through the cipher with, as well a spare and a few extra pens. All of it gets slung into a shoulder bag he'd saved from under a pile of peeling pleather belts in Macy's.

Careful to avoid the roaming creatures, he shows up where Ozpin had directed, a few minutes early to the agreed meeting time. Even if there were more people, he cuts a distinctive figure in a dove grey three piece, mostly put together despite the general lack of amenities. ]

Hey. Didn't catch your name, last we spoke. [ He'll cross the space towards Ozpin, once he hops the curb, a hand extended in a more formal greeting. ] Arthur.

[clockgears]

[ At least Ozpin's not the only one walking around in a three-piece suit in the post-apocalypse. He gives Athur a nod as the other man approaches, reaching out to return the handshake. ]

Ozpin.

[ He lets his hand fall. ]

Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. The new psychic connection we all share is... useful... but I've always felt that in-person meetings are the most effective means of collaboration.

[ar_cane]

[ Even with the landmark of a large clock to steer himself towards, Viktor gives himself plenty of time to roam the city and find the location. Unfortunately, the addition of cross-streets hadn't been very helpful for Viktor—the street signs which haven't been destroyed or faded are still mysteries to him, symbols that haven't yet clicked into place. So he arrives first, or at least finds a clock tower where he can cling to the shadows and wait to see if anyone else shows up. First is a man with white hair, who Viktor assumes is their host, and then soon after comes a smartly-dress man that must be the bearer of the second message. Viktor gives them time to make their introductions before clearing his throat and stepping out into the light, unfolding like a shadow himself.

He'd given warnings, but he still braces for reactions at his appearance. Seven-foot tall with dark, spindly limbs that look almost too thin to support such height, topped with a head that looks more like a mask though the right half had been smashed away to reveal a grey mass beneath. He'd removed his veil after weighing the pros and cons of covering his face or coming to them honestly and tucked it away into the collar of a tattered makeshift scarf that wraps around his shoulders and flutters behind him as he walks forward. He looks more akin to the horrors of this world than the people who have stumbled into it, and for that, he stops a few paces short to speak to them. Without a mouth, the words come through the Murmur rather than the cold air between them, metallic and slightly harmonized as if he speaks with two mouths. ]

Hello. [ Awkward... ] I'm Viktor.

[pointedlook]

[ Look at them, such stylish men of academia.

The handshake is polite, just long enough, before they both let it drop. Arthur had gotten a good vibe off of Ozpin, over the Murmur, but he adds a few more points for the sheer professionalism. ]

It's more efficient, in my experience. Especially with limited resources. [ Not to say their minds are poor or slow. He just much prefers digital record keeping; it takes up less space and is easier to search and cross-reference.

As he's about to query over the identity of the final piece of the trio, a figure peels itself away from the shadow of the clock tower, fragile looking in a way that's at odds with the height. Arthur freezes for a few beats, caught between fight and flight, before the newcomer takes measured steps over and speaks up. The tension in his shoulders drops away somewhat–he has to crane his neck up to look Viktor in the face. Mask.

Whatever. ]

You're able to read the symbols? [ May as well dive in and help dissipate the awkwardness. ]

[clockgears]

[ ... Well. Viktor had warned him that his appearance was a bit off-putting, and Ozpin wasn't expecting to feel short in comparison to the man. He blinks as Viktor peels away from the shadows, his brows climbing so high they disappear behind his fringe. But Ozpin's used to people and creatures with strange appearances (especially now that he's met local centipede man Ivan) so it only takes him a moment to regain his composure. He gives Viktor a polite nod. ]

Ozpin. A pleasure to meet you, Viktor.

[ At least he sounds like he means it when he says that. ]

No one else has come forward with additional messages since I made my request, so I'm afraid we'll only have the two to start with.