Anthony Lockwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
recklessenough) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undyingcourt2024-02-12 09:59 am
recklessenough) wrote in undyingcourt2024-02-12 09:59 am
Entry tags:
Its got my name on it [OPEN]
Who: Lockwood & [OPEN]
What: Various prompts throughout February
Where: Various locations in Castle Courtsheart
Warnings Some discussions about organized religion
History Class! - OTA
[ Lockwood hates teaching First Season Vampire History. He does this because his Maker adores history and insists that it is a vital foundation for all novices. Lockwood feels it is dry, boring and involves too many books, but he adores his Maker, and quite honestly she is a bit frightening so he does his duty!
Though he is engaging enough in the lecture portions of this course, there is a definite sternness to Lockwood when he is teaching class. His manner of dress is so formal it only just avoids being snazzy enough to wear to one of Courtsheart's grand balls. Lockwood tends to be very strict about questions and if he catches novices mucking about when they should be paying attention he is quick to dole out extra work.
Over the years he's learned that being a hardass in the early goings is usually a fairly painless way (for everyone) to establish his authority. So often he's often facing novices who are old enough to have been his parents back when everybody was human, and it helps to ensure that roles are clearly defined.
Good news being he only spends the first few lectures in this position. Long enough to establish clear boundaries, as well as speaking on some key dates and events in vampire history. Once the class gets through all that, then the fun begins!
Because Lockwood can't stick to dry tome teachings to save his undead unlife. One day the novices come through the door and instead of the history books, they might find racks of clothing. The ensuing lessons discuss the role of fashion in vampire culture and the history of fashion through the ages. Another day there might be the materials for the novices to make puppets and a theater and the class will put together a puppet theater based on historic vampire politics.
One of his favorite challenges to the novices is when he assigns the 'write a historical romance' essay.
It's all unorthodox as hell, but for the most part Lockwood manages to share historical information that novices may find valuable as they continue their journey towards their Becoming. ]
Office Hours - OTA
[ Lockwood loves his office in the castle. Whether by luck, or design it is an impressive space and he has outfitted it to be welcoming. With deep leather chairs, the large fireplace almost always lit during the winter seasons, he has the ability to heat water and make regular tea for the novices, as well as keeping a store of blood tea for himself and fellow young bloods. There is a solid, heavily carved desk that Lockwood uses to grade papers, and perhaps a bit of Gold Court correspondences.
He is scrupulous about keeping his posted office hours, but can also be found in his office at various times throughout the night, depending upon what other activities have drawn his attention. Unless he is speaking, privately, with someone the door is left standing open in a ready invitation. ]
The Roof - Closed to Established CR
[ Sometimes, usually close to daylight hours, Lockwood can be found up on the castle roof.
Those who come upon him up on the roof may get the sense that he's been standing there for hours, staring off into the distance, mind obviously far away from the castle. These are the periods when even the youthful angles of his face can't quite overcome the old soul depth in his eyes. Until the moment he becomes aware of someone's presence, the overly friendly, slightly flighty youth is replaced by someone who looks like he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. ]
Wildcard - OTA
[ Want a different scenario? Feel free to just toss it into this log, or if you want to reach out and discuss something, hit me up in DMs or on Plurk o/ ]
Late Edit - Nightmare/Memory - Closed to Established CR
It was a chapel of some sort, made of carved stone and marble; grand but cold. A place made for grief. Amber light filtered from lit torches, illuminating a large rectangular hole in the center of the space. Obviously some sort of alter or dias had stood there at one time, perhaps some might even recognize it as space for a catafalque to stand and then descend to catacombs beneath the chapel.
Lockwood comes crashing through the wooden door. Unlike the image he usually projects, he is extremely disheveled and out of breath. He looks as if he's been through the wars, long black coat covered in dirt and dust, hair falling across his forehead, sticking in spots against the sweat at his temples. What may stand out, to people who know him, is that this Lockwood seems even younger than his nineteen year old face.
He's a little wild-eyed, getting his bearings and appears to be judging the hole, when a lean form steps out of the shadows from behind him. Lockwood turns as the motion catches his eye. The shadow is that of a man. Slender built, in his mid-thirties, dressed like a modern day pirate with khol under his dead eyes, he moves with the same swordsman's grace as Lockwood himself. Though in this man there is the silent grace of a serial murderer, and if his slithery way of moving wasn't bad enough ... he is rocking the most unfortunate of man buns.
Rather than fear, Lockwood seems exasperated. At least this jives with what people know of his personality around the castle.
"God's sake. Really?" Lockwood's breathing tone is pure, 'I do NOT have time for this shit'
"Really." The man responds in posh, dead tones. His left hand rests atop the hilt of his own rapier.
"Look," Lockwood holds his own hands out to the sides, away from his own rapier in a gesture of peace. He's busy here! "There have been several developments since we last met. It's far too complicated to get into, but I'll cut a long story short. I'm working with Fittes now, so can we call a truce? In a bit of a hurry here."
"I'm not Fittes." The man responds in a tone that is bored and suggests that Lockwood really does have the wrong end of the stick. "You've no idea who I am."
Lockwood seems to sigh, and rather than being concerned by the soft menace in the man's measured tones, he just seems annoyed. "Okay, well, I've already dealt with eight thugs and one psychopath tonight," as he speaks, he brings his hands down and reaches for his rapier. "So one more fight's not gonna kill me." He draws the blade, spins it deftly around his hand though there is a tiredness in his action. It's definitely been a long night. "Especially with someone I've beaten twice already."
The older man looks completely unmoved and even less concerned by the thread of the rapier. His left hand remains on the hilt of his own blade, his right by his side.
"You've no idea who I am, and you've no idea what you're messing with. The forces in play. The boneglass is... an inconvenience. You, are insignificant. Just like your mother and father were."
It's these last seven words that see Lockwood's face simultaneously drain of all his bravado and fill with an expression of quiet desperation. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll never know." The man says in almost a sing song tone as he reaches behind himself and withdraws a gun.
Lockwood gasps softly, taking a step back but it's too late. The man aims and pulls the trigger with cold efficiency. Lockwood jerks, obviously struck, and it sends him falling backwards into the hole. There is ... a long pause, before there is the unmistakable thud of his body hitting the round far below.
What: Various prompts throughout February
Where: Various locations in Castle Courtsheart
Warnings Some discussions about organized religion
History Class! - OTA
[ Lockwood hates teaching First Season Vampire History. He does this because his Maker adores history and insists that it is a vital foundation for all novices. Lockwood feels it is dry, boring and involves too many books, but he adores his Maker, and quite honestly she is a bit frightening so he does his duty!
Though he is engaging enough in the lecture portions of this course, there is a definite sternness to Lockwood when he is teaching class. His manner of dress is so formal it only just avoids being snazzy enough to wear to one of Courtsheart's grand balls. Lockwood tends to be very strict about questions and if he catches novices mucking about when they should be paying attention he is quick to dole out extra work.
Over the years he's learned that being a hardass in the early goings is usually a fairly painless way (for everyone) to establish his authority. So often he's often facing novices who are old enough to have been his parents back when everybody was human, and it helps to ensure that roles are clearly defined.
Good news being he only spends the first few lectures in this position. Long enough to establish clear boundaries, as well as speaking on some key dates and events in vampire history. Once the class gets through all that, then the fun begins!
Because Lockwood can't stick to dry tome teachings to save his undead unlife. One day the novices come through the door and instead of the history books, they might find racks of clothing. The ensuing lessons discuss the role of fashion in vampire culture and the history of fashion through the ages. Another day there might be the materials for the novices to make puppets and a theater and the class will put together a puppet theater based on historic vampire politics.
One of his favorite challenges to the novices is when he assigns the 'write a historical romance' essay.
It's all unorthodox as hell, but for the most part Lockwood manages to share historical information that novices may find valuable as they continue their journey towards their Becoming. ]
Office Hours - OTA
[ Lockwood loves his office in the castle. Whether by luck, or design it is an impressive space and he has outfitted it to be welcoming. With deep leather chairs, the large fireplace almost always lit during the winter seasons, he has the ability to heat water and make regular tea for the novices, as well as keeping a store of blood tea for himself and fellow young bloods. There is a solid, heavily carved desk that Lockwood uses to grade papers, and perhaps a bit of Gold Court correspondences.
He is scrupulous about keeping his posted office hours, but can also be found in his office at various times throughout the night, depending upon what other activities have drawn his attention. Unless he is speaking, privately, with someone the door is left standing open in a ready invitation. ]
The Roof - Closed to Established CR
[ Sometimes, usually close to daylight hours, Lockwood can be found up on the castle roof.
Those who come upon him up on the roof may get the sense that he's been standing there for hours, staring off into the distance, mind obviously far away from the castle. These are the periods when even the youthful angles of his face can't quite overcome the old soul depth in his eyes. Until the moment he becomes aware of someone's presence, the overly friendly, slightly flighty youth is replaced by someone who looks like he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. ]
Wildcard - OTA
[ Want a different scenario? Feel free to just toss it into this log, or if you want to reach out and discuss something, hit me up in DMs or on Plurk o/ ]
Late Edit - Nightmare/Memory - Closed to Established CR
It was a chapel of some sort, made of carved stone and marble; grand but cold. A place made for grief. Amber light filtered from lit torches, illuminating a large rectangular hole in the center of the space. Obviously some sort of alter or dias had stood there at one time, perhaps some might even recognize it as space for a catafalque to stand and then descend to catacombs beneath the chapel.
Lockwood comes crashing through the wooden door. Unlike the image he usually projects, he is extremely disheveled and out of breath. He looks as if he's been through the wars, long black coat covered in dirt and dust, hair falling across his forehead, sticking in spots against the sweat at his temples. What may stand out, to people who know him, is that this Lockwood seems even younger than his nineteen year old face.
He's a little wild-eyed, getting his bearings and appears to be judging the hole, when a lean form steps out of the shadows from behind him. Lockwood turns as the motion catches his eye. The shadow is that of a man. Slender built, in his mid-thirties, dressed like a modern day pirate with khol under his dead eyes, he moves with the same swordsman's grace as Lockwood himself. Though in this man there is the silent grace of a serial murderer, and if his slithery way of moving wasn't bad enough ... he is rocking the most unfortunate of man buns.
Rather than fear, Lockwood seems exasperated. At least this jives with what people know of his personality around the castle.
"God's sake. Really?" Lockwood's breathing tone is pure, 'I do NOT have time for this shit'
"Really." The man responds in posh, dead tones. His left hand rests atop the hilt of his own rapier.
"Look," Lockwood holds his own hands out to the sides, away from his own rapier in a gesture of peace. He's busy here! "There have been several developments since we last met. It's far too complicated to get into, but I'll cut a long story short. I'm working with Fittes now, so can we call a truce? In a bit of a hurry here."
"I'm not Fittes." The man responds in a tone that is bored and suggests that Lockwood really does have the wrong end of the stick. "You've no idea who I am."
Lockwood seems to sigh, and rather than being concerned by the soft menace in the man's measured tones, he just seems annoyed. "Okay, well, I've already dealt with eight thugs and one psychopath tonight," as he speaks, he brings his hands down and reaches for his rapier. "So one more fight's not gonna kill me." He draws the blade, spins it deftly around his hand though there is a tiredness in his action. It's definitely been a long night. "Especially with someone I've beaten twice already."
The older man looks completely unmoved and even less concerned by the thread of the rapier. His left hand remains on the hilt of his own blade, his right by his side.
"You've no idea who I am, and you've no idea what you're messing with. The forces in play. The boneglass is... an inconvenience. You, are insignificant. Just like your mother and father were."
It's these last seven words that see Lockwood's face simultaneously drain of all his bravado and fill with an expression of quiet desperation. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll never know." The man says in almost a sing song tone as he reaches behind himself and withdraws a gun.
Lockwood gasps softly, taking a step back but it's too late. The man aims and pulls the trigger with cold efficiency. Lockwood jerks, obviously struck, and it sends him falling backwards into the hole. There is ... a long pause, before there is the unmistakable thud of his body hitting the round far below.