worthallthis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
worthallthis) wrote2019-08-30 01:37 pm
worthallthis) wrote2019-08-30 01:37 pm
Entry tags:
IC Inbox: In the Night
[There is no message for the voice inbox. Just a beep.]
Associate here wants to know----what is your name?
Soldat.
[Which Crowley, being a demon, can probably tell means "soldier" in Russian. And thus, given the username and military stuff he's already picked up, means it's probably not actually a name.]
[Which Crowley, being a demon, can probably tell means "soldier" in Russian. And thus, given the username and military stuff he's already picked up, means it's probably not actually a name.]
[It takes a few minutes. The Soldier has to have a little panic attack before it can (they can; just got a brand new pronoun earlier today, and it's still very new-feeling) actually leave, and then it has to pace a little and fret about what Crowley said to its (their) handler.
Because this is obviously about that text Crowley sent. Crowley didn't have it along like it (they) requested. Dammit, Crowley.
But then it answers,]
Coming sir.
[And then they make haste to the gym, prowling up the path and trying to keep its expression neutral and not anxious. It's very anxious but thankfully good at keeping that from being obvious.]
Because this is obviously about that text Crowley sent. Crowley didn't have it along like it (they) requested. Dammit, Crowley.
But then it answers,]
Coming sir.
[And then they make haste to the gym, prowling up the path and trying to keep its expression neutral and not anxious. It's very anxious but thankfully good at keeping that from being obvious.]
Hey Soldat. If you're, like, busy and stuff you don't have to get back to me ASAP.
I heard what you and the others did for us while we were asleep. I wanted to check up on you and see if you were doing okay. Also to say thank you for protecting us. It means a lot.
I heard what you and the others did for us while we were asleep. I wanted to check up on you and see if you were doing okay. Also to say thank you for protecting us. It means a lot.
[That's kind of unexpected. The Soldier takes a few minutes to respond, half out of surprise and half out of lingering sleepiness. But it's only a few minutes, that's not that bad.]
You're welcome. I'm fine just tired.
[That's what most people are saying, right? It seems like an appropriate reply. Then comes their own standard response:]
Are you okay
You're welcome. I'm fine just tired.
[That's what most people are saying, right? It seems like an appropriate reply. Then comes their own standard response:]
Are you okay
Next time Bucky visits the post office, the Postmaster General will give him a package!
"A small wrapped package containing homemade sweets, including homemade marshmallows, graham crackers, chocolate, and homemade peppermint sticks. These are all wrapped in cellophane and put into a clean shoe. A t-shirt with a crown on it is included with a note that says ("For Queen's #2 Fan.")"
The package includes a note that says "Happy Christmas", but the sender is left anonymous.
"A small wrapped package containing homemade sweets, including homemade marshmallows, graham crackers, chocolate, and homemade peppermint sticks. These are all wrapped in cellophane and put into a clean shoe. A t-shirt with a crown on it is included with a note that says ("For Queen's #2 Fan.")"
The package includes a note that says "Happy Christmas", but the sender is left anonymous.
The shirt gets added to the Soldier's collection of clothing, though it's a little small to actually wear. Maybe they'll wind up modifying it eventually, when it gets warmer. The shoe gets tucked into their chest of weird collected shit, because it's Weird but it's a Gift and so must be appreciated.
The food they munch on and off all day and try to make it last. ... it does not last. It's tasty.
And Crowley gets more fond looks than usual, because it's pretty clear it's from him. Where else would that shirt and the note attached to it come from?
The food they munch on and off all day and try to make it last. ... it does not last. It's tasty.
And Crowley gets more fond looks than usual, because it's pretty clear it's from him. Where else would that shirt and the note attached to it come from?
[ When Bucky comes outside in the morning, he'll find at his bedroom door a small parcel with a sprig of evergreen tied onto it. Inside contains a truly hideous sweatervest, and a nice bottle with "aftershave" printed on it that smells like witch hazel and lavender. ]
[The Soldier doesn't trip on it. They don't. They might almost do trip, though, and have to pause and pick up the package in mild confusion. Yes, Misty told them about Christmas, and they do in fact have a load of presents under their bed. (Our bed. Our fuckin' bed. Jesus. In our room. Pretty awesome, I know.) But they really hadn't expected gifts themselves. They're just not that important.
A little bemused, but touched, they take it downstairs to open it on the couch, figuring Aziraphale might want to see. They already got their gift from Crowley, so this must be the angel's.]
A little bemused, but touched, they take it downstairs to open it on the couch, figuring Aziraphale might want to see. They already got their gift from Crowley, so this must be the angel's.]
A small bouquet of paper Soldier Kisses that have been coloured a brilliant shade of blue. They’re tied with a dark grey ribbon and the tag ‘For the silent protector and the strongest of hearts.’ attached to it. It comes with a charming popup card of a cup of hot coffee, a single stream swirling out of it.
Those are perfect. The Soldier lays the flowers on the rickety little table next to their bed, tucks the coffee-card into their broken trunk of Random Weird And Cool Shit, and sets about folding some origami for Daylight in return.
He stops by Daylight's house later that day to present a crane, a lion, a frog, and a multi-pointed star (modeled after one Michelle made them, but much simpler), all in bright colored paper. It seems like a fitting answering gift.
He stops by Daylight's house later that day to present a crane, a lion, a frog, and a multi-pointed star (modeled after one Michelle made them, but much simpler), all in bright colored paper. It seems like a fitting answering gift.
[ Happy holidays! There's a little box of homemade cookies for Bucky even though Midge doesn't celebrate Christmas. She figures the cheer will be needed. There's a note attached: ]
Soldier,
If you like these, I'll teach you the recipe.
Enjoy!
-Miriam
Soldier,
If you like these, I'll teach you the recipe.
Enjoy!
-Miriam
[The plan had been to come thank Midge for the cookies, maybe share one with her (they have two wrapped in a scrap of fabric in their coat pocket), but the candle light through the window on that menorah has them completely distracted. So when the Soldier knocks, and Midge opens, the first thing they say isn't "thank you" or even "hello" like they'd intended. Instead, looking a little wild-eyed, but in a good way rather than a frightened way, they blurt:]
What is that.
What is that.
[ It's a gamble, it's possible Riku has the wrong place, or got a little turned around in the dark, or Soldat might not even be home, but there's a knock on the door. ]
[The Soldier is not, in fact, in the house. Mostly they're only in the house when making a meal for the day for Crowley and Aziraphale (and themselves), when they're sleeping, and when it's time for a bath. But they are home: out behind the house, throwing knives at a tree for target practice. Riku can hear the thok of each one even from the cabin's front door. Come investigate, Riku, maybe you'll find what you're looking for.
Or else Crowley or Aziraphale can be inside, and point Riku in the right direction. Take your pick.
Either way, when moving around the house, the Soldier pauses, knife in hand and ready to throw, then drops their hand.]
Yes? Do you need something.
Or else Crowley or Aziraphale can be inside, and point Riku in the right direction. Take your pick.
Either way, when moving around the house, the Soldier pauses, knife in hand and ready to throw, then drops their hand.]
Yes? Do you need something.
[Attached is a picture taken just outside the church. It's a small army of tiny snowmen (no taller than 5-10 inches) or perhaps more accurately snow sigillaria. If you look, each snowman has an initial on its belly to correspond to the people Jason considers himself close to. Written in the snow are the words: Happy Saturnalia & Merry Christmas.
He couldn't find enough gifts for everyone he wanted to, so he sculpted these an sent out a sort of Christmas card instead. Of course, the snowmen are still there in person for the foreseeable future.]
He couldn't find enough gifts for everyone he wanted to, so he sculpted these an sent out a sort of Christmas card instead. Of course, the snowmen are still there in person for the foreseeable future.]
[Aww. Cute. Next time Jason visits his snowman army, he'll find a few origami animals are set around, made out of in bright colored paper.]
[ rip soldat's inbox because he'll be getting these flurry of messages: ]
Hello?
Hello, Soldat?
Are you there?
Can we talk? Can we talk soon?
Please??
Something's happening and it's important and I don't want to mess it up because I know this is a big thing for the others and you and I'm really nervous since this was Dialup's thing back on the Lornful Light because she's the liaison of sorts and I was just a scout so having tea parties aren't my thing and I know it's just a tea party but it's a tea party with the doctor and she's willing to speak with me on stuff and I don't know what to ask because this is really all of the sudden and-
[ daylight doesn't need air like humans but you think he'll stop at some point.
he does not. ] -do you think it'll be weird if I bring a gift or? I don't know. I don't know what the or would be in this situation because-
[ someone please stop him. ]
Hello?
Hello, Soldat?
Are you there?
Can we talk? Can we talk soon?
Please??
Something's happening and it's important and I don't want to mess it up because I know this is a big thing for the others and you and I'm really nervous since this was Dialup's thing back on the Lornful Light because she's the liaison of sorts and I was just a scout so having tea parties aren't my thing and I know it's just a tea party but it's a tea party with the doctor and she's willing to speak with me on stuff and I don't know what to ask because this is really all of the sudden and-
[ daylight doesn't need air like humans but you think he'll stop at some point.
he does not. ] -do you think it'll be weird if I bring a gift or? I don't know. I don't know what the or would be in this situation because-
[ someone please stop him. ]
[Daylight gets to ramble for a while because there's a momentary panic attack at hearing the word "doctor" and the idea of Daylight going to go see one and no no no no nononononono no doctors for Daylight. The Soldier kicks into protective high gear after like ninety seconds of intense mental static and hyperventilating, but then barrels across the snowy lawn between their cabins to pound on the door.
Not knock. Pound. There's a gun in their non-pounding hand, too.]
Not knock. Pound. There's a gun in their non-pounding hand, too.]
[ 35 minutes after these messages go through, the soldier will receive this message. ]
His lanterns' here. It's broken. THe parade's gone. It's really quiet. I don't think they're gonna come back.
His lanterns' here. It's broken. THe parade's gone. It's really quiet. I don't think they're gonna come back.
[Sigh. He's safe. ... The other kid is not.]
Take his lantern to the church and leave it there. Solis will fix it if she can.
Take his lantern to the church and leave it there. Solis will fix it if she can.
Edited (he would not write dr whoops) 2020-02-08 03:17 (UTC)
[Wow, Rosinante, you just made Soldat's fuckin' day. Asked for advice about guns.]
Yes. I've seen his stock. Are you there now?
Yes. I've seen his stock. Are you there now?
[Enjoy this random Important Thing thrown in out of the blue, Soldat.]
You've been working a lot on spirit language, right?
Or-- Owl Friend?
You've been working a lot on spirit language, right?
Or-- Owl Friend?
Edited 2020-02-13 03:54 (UTC)
[Because the tablets might not be secure and this is not as silly a conversation as sharing music files about people, Soldat replies with:]
Will be at your house in about half of an hour.
[And then they show up, pretty much right when they said they would, looking kinda curious. And also cold. It's nearing the end of their first "break" time, almost lunchtime, and they're only not here sooner because they were smack in the middle of arm maintenance for the week and it was just easier to finish than stop halfway through. Anyway, food can wait. Or happen here, whatever.]
Hello, Misty.
Will be at your house in about half of an hour.
[And then they show up, pretty much right when they said they would, looking kinda curious. And also cold. It's nearing the end of their first "break" time, almost lunchtime, and they're only not here sooner because they were smack in the middle of arm maintenance for the week and it was just easier to finish than stop halfway through. Anyway, food can wait. Or happen here, whatever.]
Hello, Misty.
[ owl friend is surprisingly pensive whenever they and soldat interact with one another. even the usual cup of coffee seems to not bring their mood back up - though, to be clear, it seems owl friend doesn't seem upset or scared. it appears owl friend is... distracted by something preoccupying their mind, whatever it is. attempts to bring it up will have owl friend fondly pecking soldat's head, chittering in a playful yet evasive manner.
(owl friend also seems to be missing a few feathers though it's not really supposed to be moulting season. (can bird spirits even moult...?) hm.)
another thing to note is daylight's behaviour. already a friendly guy who loves to hang out with soldat when the chance presents itself, day can easily be found trailing after soldat during the day if the chance presents itself. day is more than happy to fill the air with chatter - and questions. lots of questions he tries to coach in opinions and remarks but it doesn't take a genius to realise that day is trying to find out things about soldat like his hobbies and interests and so on.
if soldat confronts day about his behaviour, the big guy will at least have the decency to look embarrassed and explain he's just 'curious!' and say nothing after that. there is a 100% chance day will abscond at the first chance he gets. ]
(owl friend also seems to be missing a few feathers though it's not really supposed to be moulting season. (can bird spirits even moult...?) hm.)
another thing to note is daylight's behaviour. already a friendly guy who loves to hang out with soldat when the chance presents itself, day can easily be found trailing after soldat during the day if the chance presents itself. day is more than happy to fill the air with chatter - and questions. lots of questions he tries to coach in opinions and remarks but it doesn't take a genius to realise that day is trying to find out things about soldat like his hobbies and interests and so on.
if soldat confronts day about his behaviour, the big guy will at least have the decency to look embarrassed and explain he's just 'curious!' and say nothing after that. there is a 100% chance day will abscond at the first chance he gets. ]
[Well, that sure is weird. Soldat does not, in fact, put the robot-teen and owl spirit's behavior together. They're a smart cookie, but there's really nothing to connect those two sets of oddities. (Though they have noticed Daylight spending more time with the spirits than usual, Daylight has never been introduced to Owl Friend, and thus, this particular connection is not a thought that occurs. Soldat does have a few blind spots.)
They play along with Daylight's 20 questions with a kind of curious indulgence. Soldat's hobbies include teaching people things, cooking, origami, cleaning and practicing with their weapons, listening to music, and watching people. It's not at all hard to work out.
They are more concerned about Owl Friend, to be honest, since Daylight asking questions in a childlike and transparent manner is close to normal behavior and can have an explanation, but Owl Friend acting weird is new and a little worrisome. Owl Friend gets extra head-scritches during visits, just in case.]
They play along with Daylight's 20 questions with a kind of curious indulgence. Soldat's hobbies include teaching people things, cooking, origami, cleaning and practicing with their weapons, listening to music, and watching people. It's not at all hard to work out.
They are more concerned about Owl Friend, to be honest, since Daylight asking questions in a childlike and transparent manner is close to normal behavior and can have an explanation, but Owl Friend acting weird is new and a little worrisome. Owl Friend gets extra head-scritches during visits, just in case.]
[ Okay, Kal knows he was supposed to keep his distance, but Bucky's going to get a box full of a half-dozen blueberry cupcakes, anyway. The card attached says:
This doesn't even convey half of how grateful I am for the help you've given me, but I hope you enjoy it this day of St. Valentine.
Thanks, Soldat.
Kal
There're hearts drawn on the tops of each muffin, which look suspiciously like they were done by laser. Hmmm. ]
This doesn't even convey half of how grateful I am for the help you've given me, but I hope you enjoy it this day of St. Valentine.
Thanks, Soldat.
Kal
There're hearts drawn on the tops of each muffin, which look suspiciously like they were done by laser. Hmmm. ]
you can't give Soldat cupcakes and then not expect an action scene
worthallthis
2020-02-14 01:24 am (UTC)(link)
[Soldat collects the cupcakes, sniffs them suspiciously, brings them inside to try.
Well. Fuck. The guy is trying, they've gotta give him that. And honestly, Soldat can be utterly terrified of someone and still like them. And these are really good.
So they track down Kal-El (Kal? Maybe El was the family name) with one cupcake in hand. Holds it up, gives it a little shake as if trying to make a point or perhaps looking for the right words, and then finally asks without preamble,]
Do you have the recipe for this.
Well. Fuck. The guy is trying, they've gotta give him that. And honestly, Soldat can be utterly terrified of someone and still like them. And these are really good.
So they track down Kal-El (Kal? Maybe El was the family name) with one cupcake in hand. Holds it up, gives it a little shake as if trying to make a point or perhaps looking for the right words, and then finally asks without preamble,]
Do you have the recipe for this.
Edited (pronouns are hard) 2020-02-14 01:25 (UTC)
i realised i accidentally typed bucky in metatext too please disregard MLFAOSAMLGM
uplifters
- 2020-02-14 01:31 (UTC) - ExpandSOLDAT FINDS AN OPAL :) [big, big animal injury/death cw]
shadowsran
2020-02-24 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
You are on the floor of a very snazzy house in New Orleans. A coven, in New Orleans. Staring upward at an ornate chandelier, just turned on. A shame you've never been to the city and now that you have you've spent all of it here or entombed, but you have better things to do than think about that. You have to focus. This is important.
Getting to hell should be simple for girls with your talents. It's the getting back, darlings, that is the challenge. If your soul hasn't returned to your body by sunup, you will die.
It's as if the air is physically pressing in on you. There's a pit in your stomach, and if you weren't so anxious you might cry. Focus. You turn to the mousy girl on your right, who looks, to her credit, undaunted.
"What do you think it'll be like?" (The exhale afterwards is staggered. God, everything--)
"I was hoping to never find out." Sounds undaunted still. She's kind enough to humor your taking her hand. Or maybe she's afraid too. Permission is given to begin. One final breath. She relinquishes your hand.
Four voices, different tones, inflections, volumes, discordant to the very fucking end: "Spiritu duce, in me est. Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum, ut salutaret inferi. Descensum!"
The frog under your hands twitches, ribbits, clearly wishes to right itself as you pull back. Good. You have eyes for nothing else, hyperfocused, hands folding in your lap.
"Freak." Right, there's a world around you. You look up and into the safety-goggled eyes of a child surely no older than twelve. A whole room of them, busy with their own knives and their own frogs, though only this one seems to be set on you. The room is dimly lit, sickly green. Fluorescent lights flicker noisily overhead. ANIMALIA is the only thing you can make out from the corner of your eye scrawled on the blackboard off to the right, but it repeats. You somehow know it does. Some short phrase filling all available space. Tables lining the left as well as all shelving around the room are lined with preserved frogs. Atypical decorations. You blink. The boy continues: "You're a freak. Mr. Kringley, she did it again."
You muster exactly one, defeated, "No." But it's already in motion. Footfalls behind you, quickening - because he's irritated. Everyone's staring, now.
"Where is the dissection frog?" He asks, sounding frustrated. Your frog has finally turned itself over, cheerfully sounding off its success. Unable to meet his eyes, your head drifts to the left.
"It's right there, she brought it back to life--" "Shut up, Bobby! She snuck a live one in to trick you. The trick's on her. Pick up the scalpel."
"No. Please, don't make me--"
"If you won't dissect a dead frog, than you will - dissect - a live one." He lifts the scalpel left untouched until that moment, and forces it into your hand. He's stronger than a man ought to be, or you're weaker, maybe. His fist closes around yours, scalpel at the ready, and you can't shake it. There is a void behind his eyes.
You're nearly crying already, panicking, who knows how long you've been at this, it's all one rushed, "No-please-don't-make-me-kill-a-living-thing-- please, you can't make me--"
"You'll kill it or I'll have a talk with your parents." He forces your whole arm, now, and try as you might you can't stop it. Try as you might, you can't look away.
The frog is somehow on its back again, squirming, ribbiting, vulnerable. Scalpel slices. Scalpel sinks. Such a small creature but you feel it down to your stomach, the feeble resistance its flesh provides, the heft of tiny organs being destroyed. It's like paper after that. Watery blood trickling steadily over its heaving little abdomen, its sides, down into the crook of its little shoulder, and if the poor thing is still making sound you can't hear it over your own wail.
Everyone is still watching, you know even despite your own firmly shut eyes. Not one pair of lips moves, but they're laughing, somehow. You can hear it, it echoes off the walls, it converges overhead. They're laughing. Focus. Blood has been wicked away somehow when you open your eyes, intestines visible as you cage your hands protectively over and around it. Familiar expenditure of energy. Power like home. You can correct this. (You're shaking.) You are sorry. You're so sorry. It's--
The frog under your hands twitches, ribbits, clearly wishes to right itself as you pull back. Good.
"Mr. Kringley, she did it again."
He's not at your side anymore. There's his footfall.
"If you won't dissect a dead frog you will dissect a live one--" The scalpel in your hand, cold, fingers like clay, unable to pull back, your largely identical weepy babbling - can't kill a living thing you can't make me--
Clearly he can, now. Your hand moves like a limb possessed, despite the lack of his hands on you this time. You press so hard you can feel the blade meet the metal bin the critter's laying in. You wail. Of course you do. The minute control of your hand is restored you toss the scalpel aside, cage your hands protectively over and around it. Familiar expenditure of energy. Power like home. Why is this happening, how long have you been here? You're so sorry. It's--
The frog under your hands twitches, ribbits, clearly wishes to right itself as you pull back. Please. Please.
"Mr. Kringley--" "-- dissect a dead frog, you will--" "NO--" - the slit, the blood, legs to throat, the croak, that helpless squirming, it didn't do anything - "NO--" -- its skin spread, stuck down with pins, tiny, fragile organs so haphazardly disturbed it's like you'd turned them with a fork -- when did that -- footfall behind you -- the laughter and your own screams are almost deafening -- "You're a freak--" your wordless, monosyllabic, verbal ache-- twitch, ribbit--
(It loops. It loops forever. Determining time passed within it in any real time is an impossible task, and if there is a set period after which an onlooker will be located, it's longer than any sensible person would want to. You never stop screaming.)
Getting to hell should be simple for girls with your talents. It's the getting back, darlings, that is the challenge. If your soul hasn't returned to your body by sunup, you will die.
It's as if the air is physically pressing in on you. There's a pit in your stomach, and if you weren't so anxious you might cry. Focus. You turn to the mousy girl on your right, who looks, to her credit, undaunted.
"What do you think it'll be like?" (The exhale afterwards is staggered. God, everything--)
"I was hoping to never find out." Sounds undaunted still. She's kind enough to humor your taking her hand. Or maybe she's afraid too. Permission is given to begin. One final breath. She relinquishes your hand.
Four voices, different tones, inflections, volumes, discordant to the very fucking end: "Spiritu duce, in me est. Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum, ut salutaret inferi. Descensum!"
The frog under your hands twitches, ribbits, clearly wishes to right itself as you pull back. Good. You have eyes for nothing else, hyperfocused, hands folding in your lap.
"Freak." Right, there's a world around you. You look up and into the safety-goggled eyes of a child surely no older than twelve. A whole room of them, busy with their own knives and their own frogs, though only this one seems to be set on you. The room is dimly lit, sickly green. Fluorescent lights flicker noisily overhead. ANIMALIA is the only thing you can make out from the corner of your eye scrawled on the blackboard off to the right, but it repeats. You somehow know it does. Some short phrase filling all available space. Tables lining the left as well as all shelving around the room are lined with preserved frogs. Atypical decorations. You blink. The boy continues: "You're a freak. Mr. Kringley, she did it again."
You muster exactly one, defeated, "No." But it's already in motion. Footfalls behind you, quickening - because he's irritated. Everyone's staring, now.
"Where is the dissection frog?" He asks, sounding frustrated. Your frog has finally turned itself over, cheerfully sounding off its success. Unable to meet his eyes, your head drifts to the left.
"It's right there, she brought it back to life--" "Shut up, Bobby! She snuck a live one in to trick you. The trick's on her. Pick up the scalpel."
"No. Please, don't make me--"
"If you won't dissect a dead frog, than you will - dissect - a live one." He lifts the scalpel left untouched until that moment, and forces it into your hand. He's stronger than a man ought to be, or you're weaker, maybe. His fist closes around yours, scalpel at the ready, and you can't shake it. There is a void behind his eyes.
You're nearly crying already, panicking, who knows how long you've been at this, it's all one rushed, "No-please-don't-make-me-kill-a-living-thing-- please, you can't make me--"
"You'll kill it or I'll have a talk with your parents." He forces your whole arm, now, and try as you might you can't stop it. Try as you might, you can't look away.
The frog is somehow on its back again, squirming, ribbiting, vulnerable. Scalpel slices. Scalpel sinks. Such a small creature but you feel it down to your stomach, the feeble resistance its flesh provides, the heft of tiny organs being destroyed. It's like paper after that. Watery blood trickling steadily over its heaving little abdomen, its sides, down into the crook of its little shoulder, and if the poor thing is still making sound you can't hear it over your own wail.
Everyone is still watching, you know even despite your own firmly shut eyes. Not one pair of lips moves, but they're laughing, somehow. You can hear it, it echoes off the walls, it converges overhead. They're laughing. Focus. Blood has been wicked away somehow when you open your eyes, intestines visible as you cage your hands protectively over and around it. Familiar expenditure of energy. Power like home. You can correct this. (You're shaking.) You are sorry. You're so sorry. It's--
The frog under your hands twitches, ribbits, clearly wishes to right itself as you pull back. Good.
"Mr. Kringley, she did it again."
He's not at your side anymore. There's his footfall.
"If you won't dissect a dead frog you will dissect a live one--" The scalpel in your hand, cold, fingers like clay, unable to pull back, your largely identical weepy babbling - can't kill a living thing you can't make me--
Clearly he can, now. Your hand moves like a limb possessed, despite the lack of his hands on you this time. You press so hard you can feel the blade meet the metal bin the critter's laying in. You wail. Of course you do. The minute control of your hand is restored you toss the scalpel aside, cage your hands protectively over and around it. Familiar expenditure of energy. Power like home. Why is this happening, how long have you been here? You're so sorry. It's--
The frog under your hands twitches, ribbits, clearly wishes to right itself as you pull back. Please. Please.
"Mr. Kringley--" "-- dissect a dead frog, you will--" "NO--" - the slit, the blood, legs to throat, the croak, that helpless squirming, it didn't do anything - "NO--" -- its skin spread, stuck down with pins, tiny, fragile organs so haphazardly disturbed it's like you'd turned them with a fork -- when did that -- footfall behind you -- the laughter and your own screams are almost deafening -- "You're a freak--" your wordless, monosyllabic, verbal ache-- twitch, ribbit--
(It loops. It loops forever. Determining time passed within it in any real time is an impossible task, and if there is a set period after which an onlooker will be located, it's longer than any sensible person would want to. You never stop screaming.)
It takes even longer than the minutes the memory lasts to come out of that, because first Soldat has to relive some throat-slitting of their own. Then because when the memory malfunction clears away, there's nothing left in their head to deal with either memory, there's nothing at all. They come to almost an hour later, crouched in the snow and shivering with both arms wrapped around themselves. Even a self-hug, they realize with a twitch to free themselves, feels like confinement. They're just lucky they're on the tail end of their 0500 patrol, so it's still too early for many people to be out and about, and they're on the largely-deserted path back from the armory, so no one stumbled on them.
The opal is on the ground, melted through the snow with the heat of their flesh palm, looking balefully up at them.
A check to the tablet shows that they're late to visit Misty. She's going to worry. She's going to. She's.
It's another ten minutes of broken mental loop before they manage to creakily push to their feet.
Christ.
They pick the opal up with metal fingers, wrap it in the usual scrap of fabric, but don't do it the service of putting it into a pocket. They'd crush it, but only with Misty's permission. They go straight to her house and knock like usual, but their expression isn't the polite neutral or small smile of usual, it's grimly blank, because anything else will hurt her. Or them. Probably both.
The opal is on the ground, melted through the snow with the heat of their flesh palm, looking balefully up at them.
A check to the tablet shows that they're late to visit Misty. She's going to worry. She's going to. She's.
It's another ten minutes of broken mental loop before they manage to creakily push to their feet.
Christ.
They pick the opal up with metal fingers, wrap it in the usual scrap of fabric, but don't do it the service of putting it into a pocket. They'd crush it, but only with Misty's permission. They go straight to her house and knock like usual, but their expression isn't the polite neutral or small smile of usual, it's grimly blank, because anything else will hurt her. Or them. Probably both.
I received a package and letter from our doctor friend. I won't transcribe it word for word, but I wanted to make you all aware of some information that I think needs to be known NOW.
1. Confirmation of the amusement park. The coaster we saw a flier for does exist and does do what we hypothesized it would...it's a "humane method of suicide." If any of you go exploring and happen across the amusement park DO NOT LET ANYONE ON THE COASTER.
2. She thinks it will soon be time to connect to the network. She didn't give a day, but it sounded like it would be soon. I don't know if we're to wait to reveal her presence then or if you all think we should finally call another town hall to inform everyone else about this.
If you're curious about reading the letter for yourself, let me know.
1. Confirmation of the amusement park. The coaster we saw a flier for does exist and does do what we hypothesized it would...it's a "humane method of suicide." If any of you go exploring and happen across the amusement park DO NOT LET ANYONE ON THE COASTER.
2. She thinks it will soon be time to connect to the network. She didn't give a day, but it sounded like it would be soon. I don't know if we're to wait to reveal her presence then or if you all think we should finally call another town hall to inform everyone else about this.
If you're curious about reading the letter for yourself, let me know.
Thank you for telling me. I think a friend of mine has coordinates to that amusement park
[Because if Sora knows it, Soldat knows it by now. That kid over-shares almost as much as they do.]
I'll make sure to go with him and keep people away from that
[Because if Sora knows it, Soldat knows it by now. That kid over-shares almost as much as they do.]
I'll make sure to go with him and keep people away from that
[ Last Saturday, Sora suddenly announced to Soldat that he was going to take a short break from his patrols - something like four days starting Friday - and while he'd make it to his afternoon routine and dinner on Monday, he'd probably be out until possibly Wednesday. He and Naminé discussed it and thought it'd be best to put all his memories in his head it a controlled environment! He put it in context with Naminé doing some longterm technician work with him and the opals, but really, it was more like her sitting in his bedroom and putting his memories back while he took a lot of naps. That's how he probably explained it at first.
He's already told Soldat about the amusement park and definitely made sure to promise that he'd touch base with them one more time before they left. Still, Wednesday's cutting it pretty close.
Fortunately, Sora will text them bright and early Wednesday morning! ]
hey hi i think we're all done!
i'll be at practice tonight
i'm kinda woozy but i'll try not to dip out
actually can you meet me at the doors like thirty minutes before javert's practice starts?
i have to show you something before we leave tomorrow
He's already told Soldat about the amusement park and definitely made sure to promise that he'd touch base with them one more time before they left. Still, Wednesday's cutting it pretty close.
Fortunately, Sora will text them bright and early Wednesday morning! ]
hey hi i think we're all done!
i'll be at practice tonight
i'm kinda woozy but i'll try not to dip out
actually can you meet me at the doors like thirty minutes before javert's practice starts?
i have to show you something before we leave tomorrow
[Soldat has been worried. They have experienced memory regains of many kinds, now, and anything that requires this much time and work must be insanely difficult, dangerous, and more like the full-on malfunctions they experienced at the beginning, and still on occasion these days. So: worried. They might have lingered around in Downtown a little longer than normal on their patrol, looking up at the windows they know belong to Sora's room, trying to see what's going on up there.
So the text is a relief, and also not great for their nerves. Sora. Woozy? Something to show them? You are gonna give them a goddamn heart attack.]
okay. better be an hour early though. Javert gets there early himself.
So the text is a relief, and also not great for their nerves. Sora. Woozy? Something to show them? You are gonna give them a goddamn heart attack.]
okay. better be an hour early though. Javert gets there early himself.
and all of the ridiculous grammar errors in my last tag! hm! professional rping
arsarcanum
- 2020-03-04 18:51 (UTC) - ExpandGuess what
The ferry came
I got the collection of every song my band played
All of them
The ferry came
I got the collection of every song my band played
All of them
[Clearly Duster is sharing this so that he can share the music, right?]
That sounds great. How much music is that?
That sounds great. How much music is that?
Hey. So the bulletin is out, and I was just wondering if you wanted to play a game of poker? Or go blow shit up.
[It takes maybe two hours before he gets a reply, but when he does, it's:]
Not to the point of blowing shit up yet. Maybe later. Bring cards to the church?
Not to the point of blowing shit up yet. Maybe later. Bring cards to the church?
Soldat,
Thank you for your help in defeating the monsters in the courthouse. We would have had more difficulty without your lookout.
I want to apologize for your death. Even if we can come back to life in Beacon, I was still responsible for what happens to those I lead. I wish you a safe recovery, and if you have any need, I am willing to fulfill that.
Take care of yourself,
Minimus Ambus
Thank you for your help in defeating the monsters in the courthouse. We would have had more difficulty without your lookout.
I want to apologize for your death. Even if we can come back to life in Beacon, I was still responsible for what happens to those I lead. I wish you a safe recovery, and if you have any need, I am willing to fulfill that.
Take care of yourself,
Minimus Ambus
[Coming back from the dead and finding this in their inbox has Soldat dealing with a minor panic attack, mostly fueled by guilt and a little bit of fear, because giant metal dude is so lawful it's literally scary to a formerly brainwashed assassin.
But it does require a response. So a day after Minimus sends this, he'll get the text message back:]
It was my own fault. I was stupid. Don't apologize for my own mistakes.
But it does require a response. So a day after Minimus sends this, he'll get the text message back:]
It was my own fault. I was stupid. Don't apologize for my own mistakes.
[Soldat has no idea what to say to that. The default "it's okay" is a lie. "Thanks" feels awkward and dumb. So after staring at it for a long time (they hadn't checked their tablet until about an hour ago), they just decide not to address it directly.]
Did you know Aziraphale or Crowley very well?
[They know he spoke with Crowley at the one town hall meeting, but can't remember any other interactions they particularly heard or saw.]
Did you know Aziraphale or Crowley very well?
[They know he spoke with Crowley at the one town hall meeting, but can't remember any other interactions they particularly heard or saw.]
( Since Soldat isn't permitted many visitors, on the second day after his rescue, Javert messages him, )
How are you faring? I do not doubt you're being treated well, but if there's anything at all you require, do not hesitate to ask.
( He likes making himself useful. And he feels as if he owes him a little, after Soldat took care of him when he broke his leg. )
How are you faring? I do not doubt you're being treated well, but if there's anything at all you require, do not hesitate to ask.
( He likes making himself useful. And he feels as if he owes him a little, after Soldat took care of him when he broke his leg. )
[Aw, sir. If he'd asked at the door, Soldat would absolutely have asked Misty to let him up.]
I am all right, sir, just tired and trying to settle my brain properly again. I will be back to my usual schedule tomorrow.
[There is a moment's pause, before a second message comes through.]
I may not be of much use in close quarters with green-eyes anymore. They found an off-switch.
[Well, sort of. Soldat doesn't have the vocabulary to call it anything else, but then, Javert probably doesn't, either.]
I am all right, sir, just tired and trying to settle my brain properly again. I will be back to my usual schedule tomorrow.
[There is a moment's pause, before a second message comes through.]
I may not be of much use in close quarters with green-eyes anymore. They found an off-switch.
[Well, sort of. Soldat doesn't have the vocabulary to call it anything else, but then, Javert probably doesn't, either.]
[Continuing from here]
Fjord's not allowed to be annoyed at Soldat when the guy is just making sure he doesn't puncture a lung after everything else they just went through (but frankly, when he thinks of that, he's surprised he didn't during the entire torture bullshit). He gets it.
He is, however, giving himself permission to be mad at the sewing kit, which he's started fiddling with while Soldat went off to do his own tasks for a bit. He's not a particularly dexterous fellow - not like Nott and her little goblin fingers - so when Soldat gets back Fjord has only just successfully threaded his first needle.
Fjord's not allowed to be annoyed at Soldat when the guy is just making sure he doesn't puncture a lung after everything else they just went through (but frankly, when he thinks of that, he's surprised he didn't during the entire torture bullshit). He gets it.
He is, however, giving himself permission to be mad at the sewing kit, which he's started fiddling with while Soldat went off to do his own tasks for a bit. He's not a particularly dexterous fellow - not like Nott and her little goblin fingers - so when Soldat gets back Fjord has only just successfully threaded his first needle.
After checking in with Javert and spending about fifteen minutes in the kitchen, Soldat comes back to set a plate in front of him with two grilled cheese sandwiches, turkey and tomato between the melted cheese. (Ham looks too much like spirit mystery meat, sadly, which ruins a good ham and grilled cheese. Turkey looks okay, though.) "Having trouble, there?"
Their own plate has three sandwiches. There are bottles of beer, too, because while Soldat can't get drunk, they do kind of like the taste. Feels like the 1930s to drink it, like coffee. Plus, they figure Fjord will appreciate it.
Their own plate has three sandwiches. There are bottles of beer, too, because while Soldat can't get drunk, they do kind of like the taste. Feels like the 1930s to drink it, like coffee. Plus, they figure Fjord will appreciate it.
Sorry for the delay. I decided to touch one of the sand bottles and I've been sleeping.
I hope you've been resting.
[There will be a note tucked into the seam of the Soldier's front door, with small, tidy handwriting inside.
Dean Winchester managed to repair a car in the scrap yard. It's receiving a signal from the radio tower but the headlights are as ineffective as any other light here. Riku and Quentin worked on a method to amplify the light from our lanterns to drive by, and Riku and I have repaired a few salvaged motorbikes. Daylight said that he had some information to pass along and hasn't just yet. He also hasn't get confirmed if he wants to come along.
The loose plan as of this moment, is that Dean and his brother will ride in the car. Riku and I will take one of the bikes and offer others out, one to you and your companion, one possibly to Daylight. And we would proceed with the intention of narrowing our search. Emphasis is on avoiding unnecessary risks. We bring ocarinas but not torches. We haven't set a date yet and I'm open to any and all input- you and Daylight have more experience than many others here. You can leave replies at the museum or at the church. There's a false bottom to the pew on the left, second from the back.]
I hope you've been resting.
[There will be a note tucked into the seam of the Soldier's front door, with small, tidy handwriting inside.
Dean Winchester managed to repair a car in the scrap yard. It's receiving a signal from the radio tower but the headlights are as ineffective as any other light here. Riku and Quentin worked on a method to amplify the light from our lanterns to drive by, and Riku and I have repaired a few salvaged motorbikes. Daylight said that he had some information to pass along and hasn't just yet. He also hasn't get confirmed if he wants to come along.
The loose plan as of this moment, is that Dean and his brother will ride in the car. Riku and I will take one of the bikes and offer others out, one to you and your companion, one possibly to Daylight. And we would proceed with the intention of narrowing our search. Emphasis is on avoiding unnecessary risks. We bring ocarinas but not torches. We haven't set a date yet and I'm open to any and all input- you and Daylight have more experience than many others here. You can leave replies at the museum or at the church. There's a false bottom to the pew on the left, second from the back.]
I was hit by sand, too. Interesting dreams. Not sure what the purpose was.
[The next day, shortly after the text comes through, Bruce will be able to check his hollow church pew to find a note, himself. It's not quite as neat as Bruce's handwriting, but it's clearly readable. Soldat may have made like 3 copies before coming up with one that stays all in the same language and handwriting style throughout.]
Avoiding risks is good. We will be a large and very noisy group so that may not be possible, and cars will not fit in a lot of spaces in the forest. Dean and Sam might be better off on bikes. Not sure if the bikes will hold Daylight, but he may be able to keep up on foot. I probably could as well, but I will not risk Misty on anyone else's bike than mine.
Misty will come if we promise to share our intel. She is unhappy with the secrecy.
[Soldat actually finds it kind of charming, in a formerly-a-secret-assassin way, but also only if they share intel afterwards. It's not like they don't understand hypervigilance. (And they have a word for it now, thanks PTSD book!)]
[The next day, shortly after the text comes through, Bruce will be able to check his hollow church pew to find a note, himself. It's not quite as neat as Bruce's handwriting, but it's clearly readable. Soldat may have made like 3 copies before coming up with one that stays all in the same language and handwriting style throughout.]
Avoiding risks is good. We will be a large and very noisy group so that may not be possible, and cars will not fit in a lot of spaces in the forest. Dean and Sam might be better off on bikes. Not sure if the bikes will hold Daylight, but he may be able to keep up on foot. I probably could as well, but I will not risk Misty on anyone else's bike than mine.
Misty will come if we promise to share our intel. She is unhappy with the secrecy.
[Soldat actually finds it kind of charming, in a formerly-a-secret-assassin way, but also only if they share intel afterwards. It's not like they don't understand hypervigilance. (And they have a word for it now, thanks PTSD book!)]
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