I. I don't remember what it is that I just said to you
[If it weren't for her own curiosity about the contents of a very nice leather bag with golden embroidery that had appeared on her desk overnight, Timekeeper Cookie might have figured out the irritable furniture. She might have noticed that the only thing not trying to attack her was the ottoman, which she'd patched a threadbare spot of fabric on just hours earlier using some fancy stitchwork of her own. Out of boredom, of course, and perhaps out of a small bit of frustration at not having everything around her just exactly the way she likes it.
Unfortunately, it's a lot harder to notice things when your mind is suddenly a chaotic whirlwind of distracted pessimism. She was just finishing something else when the furniture became uppity, and since her scissors were already in hand, she met the violence in kind. There's a few minutes of loud noise echoing down the inn hall - scrapes, bangs, the sound of wood cracking - but no voice.
By the time anyone gets there to throw open the door and see what's going on, Timekeeper herself is gone, the window wide open. Most of the furniture is destroyed - sliced into pieces most commonly, though some survivors may yet be moving. Most strange and notable, however, is that there's a big pile of something golden and gleaming - almost glowing, really - on the floor.
On closer inspection, it's hair. For those capable of sensing it, it's hair utterly saturated with the essence of time, and well that can only belong to one person, really.
Something rattles near the closet. There's a small chest that's avoided destruction, and it's desperately trying to keep itself closed as something bumps around inside it.]
II. I've got Anubis on my back and something in my shoe
[Isolation is a hard thing to find in a small town. Timekeeper has taken a frantic, distracted path through it, stopping in various places, but never for long. If she sees anyone, she leaves. Rooftops, uninhabited buildings, public buildings that are simply empty and quiet for the moment - you might find her in any of those, if you can successfully corner her. Even if it's out in the relentless rain, she doesn't seem to care that she's getting soaked.
It's immediately apparent that something is wrong.
Her hair is cut short - roughly too, simply chopped off at the back with only enough left to still curl around and frame her face. She's carrying the Sonic Embroider with her as always - but it's damaged. Broken in half, actually, only one blade in her hand, and it looks somewhat crumpled at that. It was never a thing made to brutally destroy furniture with, that's for sure.
(If you're lucky, perhaps you found the missing half at some point, embedded in a random tree near the edges of town and looking just as sorry in state. The poor tree is probably suffering some sort of temporal anomaly until that thing gets pulled out.)
As she tilts her head towards you, you might notice that her eyepatch is cracked. Something glows behind it.]
III. Don't walk backwards, don't be jealous
[After having the absolute roughest time of it, Timekeeper is probably the least keen person on going stargazing. But, well, she had needed quite a few repair materials from Heimr, and the man was strangely convincing. It couldn't hurt, at least - and the cosmos and time are closely related enough.
Anyone familiar with her might be forgiven if they don't recognize her at first.
Her hair's been properly trimmed down to its shorter style by now, and she's not wearing her usual outfit - instead, she's wearing black suit pants and a loose but simple white shirt. No brooch or cravat - the shirt simply sits slightly open at the collar. Her top hat and scissors are both missing - she's still in the process of fixing them - and she wears only a simple black cloth eyepatch tonight.
But she's here, lingering on the edges of the group and nursing a hot chocolate. Her presence might be somewhat betrayed by Continuum Cog, who is much more openly relieved and is happily wandering around making upbeat clockwork noises at people and accepting any food (or random objects) offered to it as snacks.]
Hmmm, I might have to do something about that begging habit you've developed.
[She directs the comment in Continuum Cog's direction, but the little singularity might not even be in earshot. Still, it doesn't quite hold her usual level of glib. She's tired, folks.]
IV. Wildcard
((I know these aren't the most active prompts in the world - surprise, TK clams up and isolates herself when under duress! - but if you have further ideas or twists absolutely feel free to go for it! You can hit me at ioniconeirologist or ionicOneiroi on Discord if you wanna discuss a thing first, too \o/))
Timekeeper Cookie | Cookie Run | Ruler of the Ephemeral Flow intensifies
[If it weren't for her own curiosity about the contents of a very nice leather bag with golden embroidery that had appeared on her desk overnight, Timekeeper Cookie might have figured out the irritable furniture. She might have noticed that the only thing not trying to attack her was the ottoman, which she'd patched a threadbare spot of fabric on just hours earlier using some fancy stitchwork of her own. Out of boredom, of course, and perhaps out of a small bit of frustration at not having everything around her just exactly the way she likes it.
Unfortunately, it's a lot harder to notice things when your mind is suddenly a chaotic whirlwind of distracted pessimism. She was just finishing something else when the furniture became uppity, and since her scissors were already in hand, she met the violence in kind. There's a few minutes of loud noise echoing down the inn hall - scrapes, bangs, the sound of wood cracking - but no voice.
By the time anyone gets there to throw open the door and see what's going on, Timekeeper herself is gone, the window wide open. Most of the furniture is destroyed - sliced into pieces most commonly, though some survivors may yet be moving. Most strange and notable, however, is that there's a big pile of something golden and gleaming - almost glowing, really - on the floor.
On closer inspection, it's hair. For those capable of sensing it, it's hair utterly saturated with the essence of time, and well that can only belong to one person, really.
Something rattles near the closet. There's a small chest that's avoided destruction, and it's desperately trying to keep itself closed as something bumps around inside it.]
II. I've got Anubis on my back and something in my shoe
[Isolation is a hard thing to find in a small town. Timekeeper has taken a frantic, distracted path through it, stopping in various places, but never for long. If she sees anyone, she leaves. Rooftops, uninhabited buildings, public buildings that are simply empty and quiet for the moment - you might find her in any of those, if you can successfully corner her. Even if it's out in the relentless rain, she doesn't seem to care that she's getting soaked.
It's immediately apparent that something is wrong.
Her hair is cut short - roughly too, simply chopped off at the back with only enough left to still curl around and frame her face. She's carrying the Sonic Embroider with her as always - but it's damaged. Broken in half, actually, only one blade in her hand, and it looks somewhat crumpled at that. It was never a thing made to brutally destroy furniture with, that's for sure.
(If you're lucky, perhaps you found the missing half at some point, embedded in a random tree near the edges of town and looking just as sorry in state. The poor tree is probably suffering some sort of temporal anomaly until that thing gets pulled out.)
As she tilts her head towards you, you might notice that her eyepatch is cracked. Something glows behind it.]
III. Don't walk backwards, don't be jealous
[After having the absolute roughest time of it, Timekeeper is probably the least keen person on going stargazing. But, well, she had needed quite a few repair materials from Heimr, and the man was strangely convincing. It couldn't hurt, at least - and the cosmos and time are closely related enough.
Anyone familiar with her might be forgiven if they don't recognize her at first.
Her hair's been properly trimmed down to its shorter style by now, and she's not wearing her usual outfit - instead, she's wearing black suit pants and a loose but simple white shirt. No brooch or cravat - the shirt simply sits slightly open at the collar. Her top hat and scissors are both missing - she's still in the process of fixing them - and she wears only a simple black cloth eyepatch tonight.
But she's here, lingering on the edges of the group and nursing a hot chocolate. Her presence might be somewhat betrayed by Continuum Cog, who is much more openly relieved and is happily wandering around making upbeat clockwork noises at people and accepting any food (or random objects) offered to it as snacks.]
Hmmm, I might have to do something about that begging habit you've developed.
[She directs the comment in Continuum Cog's direction, but the little singularity might not even be in earshot. Still, it doesn't quite hold her usual level of glib. She's tired, folks.]
IV. Wildcard
((I know these aren't the most active prompts in the world - surprise, TK clams up and isolates herself when under duress! - but if you have further ideas or twists absolutely feel free to go for it! You can hit me at