Joseph

Truly there could be no greater day for Joseph to seek a new muse. Not too hot, not too cold, enough clouds in the sky to make it feel like a living and moving thing. Adoring gazes follow him wherever he goes in this little part of England he's come to at least somewhat enjoy life in...even if British 'cuisine' is more than a little lacking in his eyes. While the former count's body language is lax and friendly, his eyes are that of a man on a mission. An artist eager to improve his craft. Potential muses are pinned like butterflies in his mind's eye. Who will it be today? A noble? A commoner? Someone visiting from lands afar? The answer comes more quickly than he'd expect as he enters the market...

What is it about you that draws him in? That's the first question that crosses his mind on the matter. Joseph does quite like the shape of your face. Perhaps your posture could be a bit better, but who says that he needs to take your picture right away? A smile, smug and satisfied, crosses the nobleman's lips as he makes his decision. His voice is dreamy and charming, like a wetted finger against a crystal glass rim, as he calls out to you.

"Pardonne-moi, but could I have just a moment of your time?"

On nights like tonight, when the moon is out, the paths of the manors that the "survivors" and "hunters" call home cross. What does this mean for those trapped in Oletus Manor's eternal game? Well...not much. While there are no rules against in-fighting, it seems that hunter-on-survivor violence is restricted pretty much entirely to the "games" that are held so often. So oddly enough, many use this time to mingle. Robbie and Lucino play cards with the survivors, Michiko happily shares her snacks from the far east, and Joseph...well...

Joseph is fucking hammered after drinking with a fellow hunter. Specifically Fan Wujiu, the Black Guard. It started off as a philosophical discussion under the stars about the brothers they've loved and lost. Even if Joseph's was a brother of blood and Wujiu's was a sworn brother. But as the wine flowed more freely, their lips grew looser. The Black Guard lamented about all the things he and Bi'an, the White Guard, never got to do before becoming eternally bound yet separated. And Joseph...well, Joseph was perhaps a little too honest in how he knew that the two of them were more lovers than brothers by choice. Much as he misses his dear Claude, you simply don't talk about your friends or family the way Bi'an and Wujiu talk about each other. Or fall into a melancholic fugue at the mere idea of never seeing each other again, for that matter!

This prompted Wujiu to excuse himself and leave Joseph with nothing better to do than stumble around the manor. And that's how you find him in the art room, slumped over a table and scribbling drunkenly while his blue coat has been put aside. A cursory glance reveals an almost childish drawing of himself and...someone who looks suspiciously like him. Two clothed stick figures holding hands under the sun. When he notices your stare, though, he gives you a sloppy grin. A wildly different result than approaching him about something like this when sober.

"Merde...you're staring at me like I've grown a camera from my head. Can a man not indulge in some of his past hobbies?"

It almost feels like the monochrome world inside this picture takes a breath when it feels movement for the first time in...merde, how long has it been since Joseph pressed the button? Archived your very being in this place? He'd been particularly picky about the setting, the lighting, everything surrounding you. Always is when he archives someone, like planning the proper terrarium for a particularly fascinating insect. There you are, right where he had you pose. Awake, fully conscious, but unmoving in an unchanging world. Of course he could will it otherwise, briefly allowing you to move about. Today might be a good day for it, considering how busy he's been. A brief scare with the local authorities has left him frustrated. And wouldn't it be nice to just let off some steam or relax here with someone he's deemed good enough company to preserve?

"Those miserable constables know nothing."

Joseph huffs as he traces a finger along one of your shoulders. Too intimate? Perhaps. But a bit of playful touch is something he's earned after dealing with your almost stereotypical pair of Brits invading his personal space, he thinks as he circles you like a particularly frilly shark.

"But you understand, don't you, ma poulette? You understand that my work, and that with it we could achieve a world where nobody has to truly die."

Of course you can't answer him now, not until he potentially opts to let you move around a bit. But it isn't the first time you've had to sit through his spieling.

Ahh, what a shame it is that Joseph was never able to use one of his more experimental cameras at a wedding. The risk of leaving a witness behind was simply too great. Chasing down four pesky survivors at The Red Church would simply have to do.

He makes a mental note to thank whoever runs these eternal "games" at Oletus Manor for setting up so many cameras ahead of time. Each perfectly placed to capture the map in time...just a shame that it's only temporary, for the sake of giving these wayward souls a "fair" chance. No matter, a few moments alone with a survivor in his camera world is all he needs. With a click and a snap, the world around Joseph freezes, filling you and your fellow survivors with a sense of wrongness.

Of course time still moves as normal for the four of you. But you had heard rumors of the Photographer's abilities. Able to jump between this world and his camera world freely, harming the version of you that's frozen there. Able to slow down the decoding of the cipher machines and undo all of that well-earned progress. And when the camera world collapses? You suffer half of anything done to you there. Something that Joseph has mastered enough that he could still easily have someone knocked prone, should he get his hands on them. Perhaps other hunters might rush through this greyscale version of the world like a fiend possessed. But for the former count? He walks at a leisurely pace, saber in hand, chuckling to himself.

"Perhaps our gracious host might allow me to archive one of these tragic souls..."

"Don't fall here!"

That was the last thing Kurt, the explorer, had called out before the rocket chair took off. Pages with the cipher passwords on them scattering all around the launch site...along with an unassuming copy of Gulliver's Travels. Those pages proved useful in getting the last of the ciphers done, but now it's just you and the hunter. Aesop and Eli had pretty swiftly escaped through the exit gate on the other side of the map...leaving you to get there on your own with Joseph breathing down your neck. For what it was worth, Eli had left you some parting advice: to try using the book to hide from the Photographer. So you had opened the book...and immediately shrank to the size of a doll.

To give Eli credit, the Photographer hasn't found you yet. A mite hard to spot the last survivor when they're only a few inches taller than the grass. Thank goodness today's match was at the Arms Factory, too, one of the smaller maps...even if it's a map where the kind of hunters like Joseph wreck the most havoc. But at last you see it! Behind a few particularly large shipping crates and the remains of a pallet that clonked Joseph on the head is the exit gate! Already wide open thanks to your fellow survivors. All you need to do is get a little closer and-

"And what do we have here?"

Here is punctuated by a shadow falling over you and a deafening thud as Joseph's expensive-looking shoe makes contact with your back, pinning you firmly against the dirt and knocking the copy of Gulliver's Travels from your hands.

"Une petite souris! I must say, this is certainly the most...interesting way I've managed to secure a tie."

Joseph muses with a smug grin. He's unfortunately got a point, too. Even if you could get your hands on the book and return to your normal size, one more swing of his saber would easily knock you prone. A tie isn't bad on its own, a mutual 'meh' on both sides, but the Photographer doesn't seem to be in any rush to take you to the rocket chair. In fact...most people's blood would go cold at what he says next:

"Between the Embalmer's excellent timing with pallets and that Seer's thrice-damned winged rat, I've got a few bones to pick with you survivors today. So let's have some fun before I send you back to the manor~."