Pages: (15) 1 2 3 4 5 ... Last » ( Go to first unread post ) REPLY  TOPIC

» Footsteps, Adelphie, Westley,Derrick
Westley Caravelle
 Posted: Apr 15 2012, 01:31 AM
Quote Post


Hard-to-pin-down Bastard

Male Human
Pettifogger
The Black Lotus
player: veni
479 posts





His explanation had a strange effect on the un-masked one. He looked puzzled. Did he believe him? He didn't seem the type to just believe.

“Hmm. No, no, no", he said as he came nearer, confirming Westley's suspicion. Huh, he hadn't thought so.

The odd man leaned in close, but the feeling of imminent threat from before had vanished. Westley unthinkingly imitated the movements of the other's head, tilting his as well, although ever so much more slightly. He could see the fibres of the dirty bandages now, all the little scuffs and caked spots. The quiet smell of blood sending something cold and panging through the back of his mind. No. Thinking about that later.

Westley frowned. The Nothing Man was losing him there - "The accepting grey" ? He dearly hoped listening to him would get easier after a while. He dearly hoped some of the words he used were ones he used regularly -- and he didn't just make them up on the spot, regardless of who understood him other than himself. That he wasn't just voicing his thoughts as they came to him, only understood by himself, no one else.

Again, not letting go of whatever sort of issue he had with the Caravelle name or the Lotus -- Or was it that..?

Then -- a proposition.

Westley didn't answer right away. "You're crazy."
He chuckled, unbelievingly. He wasn't entirely sure wether the man had no other hope left for the two of them or he just wanted to die. Wether he wanted this to end - just like he wanted. In a show.

Well, whatever it was, it wasn't very compatible with what Westley had in mind. Not for Plan A, at least. He hadn't even got started yet. Heck, he didn't even really know anything that was going on. The Terminal seemed to dislike complete files and forms just as much as greetings.

"No...no..." It was Adelphie. She looked even a lot less content with that notion than Westley. Something new was showing on her face now, unexpectedly. Determination. But the rock-solid kind, the kind that you could cut yourself on if you stood in its way. A moment later, Wes learned where that came from.

He mostly had no idea what events she was talking about, but it was clear what her point was.
Wes felt he was beginning to get an idea of the relationship between her and the faceless man.

"I...am 'property.' ..Protecteen... Hurteen..." She was horrible at explaining things thoroughly, but Westley was thankful that she at least tried. He nodded slowly. "Yes. That's what I thought of doing. Trying to get youboth acquitted." He gave the Nothing Man a harsh look, regardless of wether he was looking into his direction.

"I'm not selling anyone to the hangmen. Especially not to make myself something that I'm not."


"And...you should probably readeen letter from M...Morrow..."

Westley looked surprised, suddenly remembering about the letter. He hadn't read it at once because he'd thought other things more pressing, and maybe because he'd deemed it somewhat impolite. Well, they were probably past questions of etiquette by now. He leaned forward, placed a hand on the piece of paper and pulled it over the table towards him. Unfolding it, he glanced over at Adelphie. Her behavior at the pure mention of the man's name gave him an idea of who he was dealing with. There may be a visit to be paid...

Reading over the first few lines, he sat up straighter, a frown growing on his forehead. Interrogation protocol...
After a moment he looked puzzled, then looked up, searching for Adelphie's eyes. "You're a chaplain?", he asked, half nonplussed, half amused. He didn't expect an answer, but kept reading. He didn't stop his face from moving whenever something seemed to confuse or concern him. The end deepened his initial frown, though. As he put the letter down, he corrected his expression to thoughtfulness.

"You've gone quite some way to end up here, have you?", he said, directing a smile at Adelphie. He tapped at the paper in front of him with his left index finger. "The... doctor wrote down everything you told him", he explained. He wasn't going to ask her again how exactly that interrogation had gone down. He was going to find out by himself. Later.

The Surge seemed a lot more... helpful than the Ringleader and it felt like a good idea to encourage that. His eyes wandered over to one of two spare chairs placed before the desk. "Can you- Do you- Do you want to sit?"
Stumbling over words again. That wasn't like Wes at all, but he couldn't help it.


--------------------
It ain't a sin if it don't make me cry.
He's not the devil 'less there's fire in his eye.
PMEmail PosterIntegrity Messenger IMMSN
^
The Nothing Man
 Posted: Apr 15 2012, 03:53 AM
Quote Post


Glorified Hobo Joker

Male Surge
Ringleader, Postmodern Anarchist
Carnival of Amgine
player: AyeeDee
449 posts





For someone who someone who seemed to look like he held all the cards in his hand, to have an answer for everything. Who not only understood how the gears of sentient psychology twisted and turned in others, but able to construct his own…modifications with a bit of trickery and a touch of mimetic theory. As much as he hid it, he was far, far from ever being considered close to a mind reader..

With a quick word of nullification and those foreign hands grasping at his thin, cold arm. His apprentice was perhaps the most perplexing to him of all, and while he expected to hear a rejection from her he still had no idea as to why.

His head turned back to look at her. Her look of concern and her voice unrelenting in it’s own zeal. This, a person who would without question sacrifice herself for the worst humanity had to offer and yet did not expect such behavior in return? Was she symbolic only in herself and not to others?… Did she him in a way that he could not see himself? More then simply a walking living ideal, but a person… A person that burned away in what seemed like an eternity ago…. A person with a name and a face, a person he was not anymore.

“ Oura.” He whisper the words just loud enough for her to hear as his hands instinctively flinched to rise, but the clinking of the chains reminded him that he no longer had such freedom and lowered them back down. His mind still processing exactly what she stood for… To a life that was long gone that she still clung too out of habit or sheer unbreakable will.. She was looking for this light, in the darkest of laws, grasping at anything to save him…HIM and not herself.

“Can you- Do you- Do you want to sit?”

His was about to open his mouth to respond but the rather confused Lawyers voice broke through his own, which caused his glance to be stolen away from Oura, be it intentionally or not. His eyes then looked down to the pair of seats that he gestured too, back up at Westley once more and then back to the one that still held his arm.

“ Life is a stage. We dance, we sing we perform on strings of glass.. Pulled by whom? That hand is always changing. Always shifting… Who pulls your strings Oura? Your god? Is it your hope that those strings are pulled by this …god and not guided by greed? Not guided by self interest or even survival? That you alone are the Martyr that must save everyone? Everyone that cannot? What is your hope Oura? Where will you go when your curtain final meets it close? …. I… always have a purpose a reason, a symbol for what I do. My reasons …my purpose… Be it to spill blood or …lend that hand of guidance. My purpose is greater then me.. Make no mistake, you save no person by saving me and I learn what you….preach.”

He lowered his head away from Adelphie and down to the chair. “ Sit.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(( That guard npc is officially yours Atrice! >) ))

As Derrick and the guard conversed in the cell, it was rather difficult to hear the light commotion outside and almost impossible to hear the grey steel door unlock from behind them with a sharp loud. *Clank*

The door would creak open as steel grinded against steel, sending in that dim light which was just enough light reveal a second heavily armored guard who held a slight of build hooded figure in by the her shackled together hands.

“ Oh.. I did not know this cell was occupied. They all seem to be occupied today but I suppose that will all clear out soon as the hangings start in another few days… Is this one safe enough to share a cell with another? I don’t think the commander will mind..“ The guard spoke in a tone that sounded rather young and casual, as if he was rather new to the academy himself.

Only a flash of long flaming red hair could be seen from underneath that hood of the new captive that the young guard held by shackled hands. She seemed quite content to keep her face covered and hidden away, whether it was by her choice or not was another question entirely.


--------------------
There is a red and angry world.
Red things happen there.
The world eats your wife.
And eats your friends.
It eats all the things that make you human.

And it turns you into a monster..
PMEmail Poster
^
Adelphie Chi
 Posted: Apr 15 2012, 06:57 PM
Quote Post


Member

Female Surged Toumind
Priestess/ Ringmaster's Apprentice
Carnival of Amgine
player: Silkspinner
164 posts





Stillness, for a few moments. Thinking about what he had said. Thinking, considering...to not disrespect and disregard his ideas, but not allow him to come to harm for her sake. The thought positively squeezed on her heart by now, for all that she truly hadn't known the masked man long.

The Kraken regarded the chair quietly a few moments, considering how to go about it without crushing it with her weight. But...no. No, while she could support it, she couldn't really fit between its arms. So, stacked tentacles curled up beside it, and he sat quietly on those. Remained silent.

She'd never said more than a passing word about her religion. Never until she had better command of the language, that she could be clear, and despite her companion's repeated mentioned--usually barbed--at the subject. Just patient. Waiting. But now...now there may be no more time to wait, and right now, it mattered. Her voice was quiet at first, as she began slowly.

"I not haveen any God. Is people...is only people. But people--all people, hu...humanity?" The touch of question was on the word, not the idea. It was the sort of word one picked up around the Nothing Man, but not one used constantly. "...Believing that humanity is not done. Like your 'unfinished canvases.' That is young, like child. And like child, makeen mistakes, and like child, is selfish, and...and like child, can be'een very cruel." She swallowed hard there. She certainly had some rather...poignant reminders of that.

"But...but it will not always be this way. Like child, still learneen still groween. Believeen that it groween through actions of person...persons. Believing that all actions teacheen it. All action go far beyond one action. Like...like if you came in, hurt law-yer? Or not, but just...scare badly?" She looked at Westley, than back to the Nothing Man. "If...if makeen him hate prisoners, can hurt any he sees in future. Can hurteen him, and by that hurteen people he needeen to help, and by that hurteen people loveen them, which changeen how they will act to others...but...but it can goeen other way, too. Kindness, warm feeleen, good action, good time...echoeen forward in same way. Affecteen in same way. So every...every moment, every action, so eem-portant....

"You...you see'een? Most in my faith thinkeen people live again and again, life after life. Some...not believing that, thinkeen we only live once. But...it does not matter to how it means to liveen. Is wonderful part about it..." The Priestess closed her eyes, smiling faintly. It had been so long since she'd been able to say all this aloud, even in a language she only had a cursory command of. "It...it is not mattereen. That part...if we liveen again or not, then soul will needeen to live again in the world it affected, needeen to pick up again there. If it does not...then legacy, what kind of...of ripple of changes is all it have left. Goes more far than one life, is...is more eem-portant. Because over all else, pusheen humanity to more understanding to...to Transcendence.

"There is...suffereen and to sacrifeen self is...is sometimes what is needeen. But to knoween and alloween someone else to be hurt, to keepeen self safe is...is shadow action. Is...is wrong kind of echoeen. Like when...like when I first meeteen you and just leteen them take you when you steppeen in front of me..." She trailed off. the guilt was heavy in that part.

After a few quiet moments. "Is not...is not just ideas, is...knoween...how many people have dyeen for me in some way...? Fourteen. Fourteen. Is...is...no person worth that and...please...not...not addeen you to pile of bodies...." She glanced up at the bandaged face before tracing down a few moments later, a hand pressing over her face.

"P...please..."
PMEmail Poster
^
The Nothing Man
 Posted: Apr 15 2012, 08:44 PM
Quote Post


Glorified Hobo Joker

Male Surge
Ringleader, Postmodern Anarchist
Carnival of Amgine
player: AyeeDee
449 posts





((*sniff* a post to make TNM proud))




No matter what it was, almost everyone and everything either changes or breaks to its surroundings. Adapt to suit it better, to learn from and further evolve.

While The Nothing Man truly somewhat considered her something of an …apprentice, as much as one with her background views and differences COULD be considered an apprentice anyway. Ir was very much clear to the entertainer that she both learned and evolved differently from the way he spoke and thought. This was clear by not only showing that she was indeed learning to both talk and convey her ideals as well as to better pick and analyze his words at her own discretion. While it showed as clear as day in her own speech that she was learning quite a bit quicker then expected, the nameless man still simply could not comprehend JUST how much of a jump she got from his own influence.

The way it usually went is that he would talk, she responded and he retorted and that was it. This time it was HER turn to hold that brush and paint her own color.

He just barley had time to sit down rather begrudgingly in front of the Caravelle. His focus almost completely now on Westley as if it was his turn to take the stage front an center and The nothing man could not be anymore curious as to exactly what he was going to… “perform”. Yet to the surprise of ringleader and perhaps the lawyer, the spot light was not given to the Caravelle but his young apprentice whom was not quite ready to give up her turn with a speech that not only undermined his attention to the lawyer but stole the show almost completely.

Even in its broken state, it was strangely fluid to the faceless figure. It was as if she held onto the words for much too long to the point they were threatening to simmer and explode. It was with passion she spoke these words, passion, knowledge and care all traits he knew her well for.. Most of those traits he had a rather severe lack in.

It was a ..religion unlike the religions found on tot but one ironically based entirely on beginning again, the very thing he asked her to do when they first met and that title he “labeled” Her. The Ouroborus. It was never quite as bright and as apparent as it was now, but for a completely different reason then how he would of described it before… Those blank puzzle in his psyche of how she worked and thought came into place in his head and while he hung and listened to every word she spoke, not for the life of him could he actually understand how she could see the world the way she did.

To the masked man the world would shaped off millions of tiny pictures that formed a giant picture all connected by delicate little strings. Strings he often saw as the strings of fate, the status quo that people were guided on but not forced to follow, and to change your own fate you must cut strings to go from one picture to another.. But to her…

“…You take the coin, you takes its scratches and all.” He repeated himself from an earlier time, a time away from this hell, this chaos. A time not long ago, but it felt like an eternity.

“ Kindness to one set of eyes is not the same to another. For those we save to see this.. bright side, they turn around and kill another. Life is both ugly and beautiful and people need to adapt to this very fact Oura.. To change and begin again just as you say. I take a life and I save it, both actions are kind and wicked at the same time… Those people who died for you, death was a scratch they were willing to accept because in their point of view, you were the light worth that…shadow you talk about.” His head finally turned to look at her, his “face” covered clearly in that soot . The white bandages stained and clung to a face that could only be imagined what sat beneath it.

“ I am a Sheppard, but I am not kind. I am an artist but I paint with both blood and tears… Everything I do has its scratches, has its violence its hate and contempt but also its…….care…… Everything this ..I am the monster you try to save and this Caravelle claims to want. But for ever pair of eyes that see a monster, they also see something….lighter.” he sighed lightly and looked back to Westley. His emotions continued hard to read and seemed to spike so many different ones and random, but never something defined.. Much like his own face.

“ Your companions were willing to take the scratches Oura, because you being alive was worth something. I see something worth changing, something my death could cause..but yours would serve nothing. My scratch… That both you and this….. Caravelle could GAIN something from” He trailed off, and while he showed no hint and was not quite sure what he was actually feeling.. A proud almost to the point of being pride in his apprentice swelled.


--------------------
There is a red and angry world.
Red things happen there.
The world eats your wife.
And eats your friends.
It eats all the things that make you human.

And it turns you into a monster..
PMEmail Poster
^
Derrick Breckenridge
 Posted: Apr 15 2012, 11:22 PM
Quote Post


Member

Male Human
Daredevil/Aerobat
Carnival of Amgine
player: Atrice
96 posts





"Safe?" The guard barked a sardonic laugh. He couldn't see beneath the woman's voluminous hood, but from what he could see, this sounded like a bad idea. "You think locking up a woman with a thieving airship-buccaneer is a good idea? Look at him." He gestured angrily at Derrick, who was rolling a bit of dandruff between his forefinger and thumb, squinting at it suspiciously. "Does that look like someone you'd lock up with a lady? I swear, you new recruits. This place would be a fucking zoo if you ninnies had your way."

Derrick, having decided that the chunk of dandruff had nothing interesting to offer, flicked it away. "M'not dangerous," he complained, "N'I don' hurt women. My mom was a woman." Derrick poked his head between the bars of his cell. He addressed the woman directly. "Hi. I'm Derrick." He stuck a hand through the bars to shake, grinning. The guard pulled the night stick from his belt and gave it a sharp thwap.

Derrick yelped pulled his arm away, rubbing it unhappily. He glared at the guard, hurt. "That wasn't gennlemanny."

The guard looked pointedly at his fellow prison employee. He cocked an eyebrow. "Why don't you hand the lady over to me. I'll find her someplace where she won't be harassed by reprobates."
PMEmail Poster
^
Westley Caravelle
 Posted: Apr 16 2012, 07:01 PM
Quote Post


Hard-to-pin-down Bastard

Male Human
Pettifogger
The Black Lotus
player: veni
479 posts





To Westley's surprise, both of his peculiar clients did sit down at his request - something he hadn't really been expecting at this point. Adelphie declined her chair though, and just took a sitting stance, resting solely on her arms. Wether this was actually comfortable or she did so to maintain some sort of courtesy stayed a mystery to the lawyer. The Nothing Man had almost something spiteful in his act of merely taking a seat, but things seemed a bit more orderly that way. Of course that was as far as things went towards any kind of order. What followed was a completely out-of-place impromptu discussion about religious questions - lead in most grounded earnesty. Well, as grounded as a multi-armed octopus woman and a nameless, facless man could be together.

His mind had already begun to accept that these two - the Ringleader especially- were set on doing whatever the hell they pleased, regardless of the nearly inevitable death sentence at hand. In any other circumstances this attitude was something he could get behind without thinking twice. But this... Even he couldn't fail to see that it was just... unsound.

Absentmindedly, Westley's hands found their way into his jacket pocket to bring forth a crumplet, cheap pack of cigarettes. Without really looking he lit one of them as he watched the pair; without really listening either. Their ramblings didn't really help him in any way, nor could he bring himself to be all too interested. And also he had to avoid rolling his eyes.

In truth, when Adelphie had started to explain, Westley had caught himself wanting to get something out of what she was saying, but really, he'd seen too much, knew too much to even begin to believe the world and the workings of it could be so simple, as tempting as it was. Even so, while he couldn't really get behind the ideas she stepped in for so passionately, he had to admit that, as far as religions went, this one was far more agreeable than anything he'd heard so far. There was no talk about a God or Maker who wasn't only supposed to have created the entirety of Tier's population, but also to have a sort of general control of things -- and that was supposed to be a good thing. He'd never understood it.

While those two kept on talking, Westley allowed his thoughts to trail off some; to entirely unrelated topics, at that. Things like trying to gauge just how bad of an idea this all had been. He figured somewhere between pretty bad and plain stupid, but he left a big question mark there, assuming that things could - and were widely likely to - get much, much worse. Westley was aware that this -- zoning out like this -- went sharply against his otherwisely staunch habit of taking note of everything he heard or saw while in the middle of work. He believed in the importance of details, if not in anything else, and as poor as his memory could be in everyday life, when it came down to complexity and, most of all, his very own expertise, his mind mysteriously snapped into a state of a well-oiled refined machinery, quietly ticking away behind closed doors before anyone knew he'd even started to get an idea of the whole picture...

All of this was decidedly not happening at the moment, but he knew it should. Strangely enough, he just couldn't manage to scold himself.

The drop of his last name snapped back his attention to where it was supposed to be, unintentionally, as even the slightest whisper of something as familiar as one's own name had a habit of doing, even when it was entirely unrelated. This coincided with a pause, and Westley saw a faint chance.

"Whatever makes you think there's something to gain from a random self-sacrifice..."

He now openly showed his discontent, very consciously placing it on his face. He leaned forward, both elbows on the metal surface of the desk, rubbing his temple with left index finger. Actuallythough, mostly he just felt odd being on this side of a rebuke, of all things. This discussion is over, kids. His amusement stayed hidden, however, except of course, to a Toumind. As of yet he was unaware of Adelphie's abilities -- however would he know, he didn't even know the full name of the dead person involved in this mess of a thing.

"You're being outvoted, Nothing Man. So let's just agree on slightly less desperate measures here, alright?" Having everyone seated and not spitting venom at him revived his fondness for not-so-professional tones, at times. Wether mocking the Jester was such a good idea he didn't know, but he'd come to the conclusion that he would probably lose it if he kept being polite to everyone. He smirked.

"So how about you actually tell me what happened? Maybe in a chronological order?"


--------------------
It ain't a sin if it don't make me cry.
He's not the devil 'less there's fire in his eye.
PMEmail PosterIntegrity Messenger IMMSN
^
Adelphie Chi
 Posted: Apr 17 2012, 12:52 AM
Quote Post


Member

Female Surged Toumind
Priestess/ Ringmaster's Apprentice
Carnival of Amgine
player: Silkspinner
164 posts





Adelphie faded noticeably when the entertainer finally responded, eyes tracing down and aside to hide the brimming tears. She didn't want to think about that. She really didn't want to think about it. Athenis, no doubt, considered her KIA...which made her chances of ever getting home virtually nil. And if that meant that her life was meant to be in the sky...

The Nothing Man was literally the only person she had in it.

It wasn't just a contest of ideals to her. It wasn't some grand performance and statement. He was a person, and one she was possibly...unreasonably attached to, considering how short a time she'd known him. A bit of hero complex, maybe, but...saving her life repeatedly, personally pulling her out of hell, and then becoming not only the first person she'd been able to really talk to in two years, but also a constant companion, provider, and sometime mentor had that effect.

"You're being outvoted, Nothing Man. So let's just agree on slightly less desperate measures here, alright?"

All that considered, the look of gratitude Westley received was rather poignant. she settled in, then paused a few moments after the "explain this sequentially question. That...that hadn't gone well for her last time, the answering questions thing. Her non-evasive honesty, if Morrow had been telling the truth...could have already condemned her companion. Also, she still only had a cursory idea of what a 'lawyer' was.

So, the kraken waited, loooking to the Unmasked Man for guidance, quiet again.
PMEmail Poster
^
The Nothing Man
 Posted: Apr 17 2012, 01:56 AM
Quote Post


Glorified Hobo Joker

Male Surge
Ringleader, Postmodern Anarchist
Carnival of Amgine
player: AyeeDee
449 posts





Friendship.

He did not even know what it looked like anymore, it was just a word to him now. A simple meaningless word.. For as much as he focused on alternative meanings and the bigger picture. It was so hard to see things plain in front of his face, with or without that mask.

Adelphie went quite and he did not notice the sorrow that now presented itself on her expression. Did not notice how close to tears she actually was when his focus was waiting on the man with the spotlight, nor could he simply just feel emotion like a Toumind. He did not know exactly what Adelphie thought of him, while he had his guesses he either he missed it or was so lost in his own goal that he COULD not see. Instead it was just he, the human doll whom just so happened to be currently leaning forward, watching and waiting, but not on Adelphie this time. His hidden eyes now on the center stage before him, intent, and eager on exactly what this….. Caravelle did when he had the spotlight.

It was clear that he was not like the other Caravelle he met, Sebastian he recalled the man calling himself. A man who lives in the shadows of his own name and only had eyes to regret the past and await for the future. A man who had trouble seeing what was ahead right ahead of him, a trait that The Nothing Man judge in him but failed to see in himself. Westley… he was a different animal. Even upfront he was less driven, less focused and more…human, he would go as far as to consider the man laid back, if not for his rather farfetched goals. Whether it was by lies or not, he was not quite sure nor did he think it would make much of a difference at this point.

“Whatever makes you think there’s something to gain from a random self-sacrifice”

The Caravelle finally shot his first question, or was it a question at all? More of a random musing, perhaps a verbal jab or maybe something more assisting. Like hearing his own voice would help him to understand thing’s he currently could not, or was not capable of. The musing as intended or not from the lawyer as it may have been did not go unanswered, as it was quickly joined with the ringleaders rather mocking tone.

“If one was to do something randomly then YOU nor I would know it. Answers cannot be found when a Caravelle is not willing to stop and listen to what is spoken to him…. Simple for anyone with ears to listen, but so few actually …listen.” He nodded his head as one of his fingers that rested on Westley’s desk pointed up to the side of his own head, as if a visual representation would help it sink in as verbal’s did not.

“So how about you actually tell me what happened? Maybe in chronological order?”

There we go, an actual question. No poetry and no stalling. It was the straight and simple answer that this Caravelle delivered and most likely expected in return. It was this characteristic that this Westley and Sebastian shared and no doubt caused them to rather dislike the entertainers own quality in the exact opposite approach.

He did not answer right away, instead opting to continue to watch the man rather curiously considering all his options. It was a rather broad question, wasn’t it?

He finally retracted his own hands from the lawyers desk and onto his own lap, and started to lean back now on the rather uncomfortable steel chair. This uncomfort was not visually shown nor did it seem to bother him one bit, not that one could tell anything about the man if he remained.. Silent, a silence that luckily for Westley did not keep.

“ The Canvas if filled with red curtains to match the blood its stained.. It depicts chains, corruption and bullets leading to a final dramatic act. This is all clear and yet to the curious watchers, the obvious is not so…obvious. They sit and wait with dumbfounded eyes, faces stricken with wonderment at what remains of the pieces and how they all fit together!” He shook his head laughing lightly, but at what amused him was unclear as it seemed nothing he said was anything to laugh at.

“ You paint questions with such…broad.. strokes Caravalle.”


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The guard paused a the other mans words. Even with such thick armor that block nearly all his features, it was clear that the young recruit was startled, if not confused and a little frightened at the veterans rather agitated filled answers. Answers that the young guard was mentally kicking himself for not considering his own request that he had just asked the elder.

“ I…. But Commander Ayrn. She is not a lady is she? She’s a prisoner right? Sides ‘e doesn’t look dangerous, kinda simple maybe! Not dangerous”” The guard tried, perhaps a tad to hard to desperately recover from his own stupidity . To play it off as he expected this answer and did not just pull his own answer out his ass at that very moment… To play it off cool and collected.

The woman however fidgeted lightly from underneath those heavy robes and face covering hood, a flash of pale almost grey skin, and a mouth biting her own lips could be seen flashing from underneath but nothing more. Like she was contemplating something…

“ Err, alright. Ill let you take the girl, just don’t lose her or the commander will have me head ya know? I just started and I don’t need this kind of reputation!” Finally chimed in the guard again, perhaps realizing just how lame his own attempt at recovery ACTUALLY was and decided to recover from his own recover. Now with much hesitation starting to guide the woman over to the veteran guard. “ ‘ere y-

“ …L.ucy.. Derrick, my name is Red Lucy.” Nervous and wary light tones from the hooded red haired woman interrupted the young guardsman.


--------------------
There is a red and angry world.
Red things happen there.
The world eats your wife.
And eats your friends.
It eats all the things that make you human.

And it turns you into a monster..
PMEmail Poster
^
Adelphie Chi
 Posted: Apr 17 2012, 01:00 PM
Quote Post


Member

Female Surged Toumind
Priestess/ Ringmaster's Apprentice
Carnival of Amgine
player: Silkspinner
164 posts





Adelphie sighed inwardly. The other surge probably wasn’t going to much care for this…but while he may not have a mind to save himself, she wanted to step in for any chance he had.

“I was…bought by very bad man,” she began quietly. “Guiding Light, priest…cut up Surges so be’een right for his god. Go’een to kill me. He,” she indicated the Nothing Man with a slight incline of the head… “t…takeen me away. Saveen me. Liveen in tank in tent…teacheen me to speakeen better, readeen. Many days, but not…not long…?” A good time, with the speaking and people and colors and learning. It seemed so far away, now….

“Guard came and woman…Oc…tavia? He sayeen I am ‘stolen property.’ That priest is missing, but he sayeen he is not careen, only careen about geteen me back. Is feeleen…strange, wanteen something bad…Toumind,” she added by way of explanation, setting a hand to her chest. “Sayeen I am stolen, he…wanteen to take me and…violent. Is violent, hurteen Octavia and him. I…offereen to go, if he stopeen hurting them. Guard turneen and…” she trailed off. “And…the Nothing Man protect me. Not…leteen strange guard take me, and…”

When her voice trickled off that time, it stayed there.
PMEmail Poster
^
Westley Caravelle
 Posted: Apr 17 2012, 04:04 PM
Quote Post


Hard-to-pin-down Bastard

Male Human
Pettifogger
The Black Lotus
player: veni
479 posts





"The Canvas if filled with red curtains to match the blood its stained.. It depicts chains, corruption and bullets leading to a final dramatic act..."

Westley was very close to interrupting him, or at the very least, roll his eyes at that answer. By now he strongly suspected that the Nothing Man was just pulling his leg. The flash of annoyance was a short one, though.

"You paint questions with such...broad.. strokes Caravalle."

"I have an entirely blank canvas, so excuse me for starting with a big brush."

Westley figured it was about time to find out how the Jester responded to the old I can speak just as fancy as you - act. Even though he masked it with an edge of blatant sarcasm.

Again, it was Adelphie who intercepted and took initiative, much to his gratefulness.

“I was…bought by very bad man, Guiding Light, priest…" A Dr. Vari... right? "Cut up Surges so be’een right for his god. Go’een to kill me." Yes, that was one of the problems Westley had with religion. It could make insanity into something legitimate...

She carried on with her story, and Westley placed a mental note at this mysterious Octavia person. She'd showed up in the protocol as well, but as to the role she played in all of this -- Adelphie didn't know much about that either. Westley had to wonder wether he'd ever get any useful information from the Nothing Man. Considering how much he talked, he seemed to play his cards far too close to his chest.

"The Nothing Man protect me. Not…leteen strange guard take me, and…”

"...And he shot the guard." Westley finished her sentence in a very matter-of-fact way. She misunderstood. From all the things she'd just said, this bothered him the least. A toumind? Somehow he was less surprised than he should, but he still was. For a brief moment he wondered if this was of importance, if he didn't better watch out for his emotions -- it was his nature to mistrust, question and calculate. He did, however, come to the conclusion that he didn't actually mind. After all, she was the last person to use whatever abilities she had against him. Again, he'd let a (more or less) bad habit take over without thinking.

What she'd said seemed to be very much in line what Morrow had protocolled, but obviously he didn't instantly trust any faceless note he was given, especially not if it came with a name that had made Adelphie literally lose colour. Still, he'd gotten to know a great deal more from the young Surge woman's tale than the letter containing pretty much the same bits of information. For example, now he knew that the obvious holes in the story - unanswered questions like who this Octavia was or why this Guard had acted as he did - weren't due to her being inaccurate. She just didn't know.

On a whim, he gave the Ringleader a questioning look. Did he have anything to add?


--------------------
It ain't a sin if it don't make me cry.
He's not the devil 'less there's fire in his eye.
PMEmail PosterIntegrity Messenger IMMSN
^
The Nothing Man
 Posted: Apr 17 2012, 06:32 PM
Quote Post


Glorified Hobo Joker

Male Surge
Ringleader, Postmodern Anarchist
Carnival of Amgine
player: AyeeDee
449 posts







I have an entirely blank canvas, so excuse me for starting with a big brush”

“Hrmm with every action comes a reaction…Caravelle. Give and you receive…. Paint broad, simple drip inducing strokes and the answer will be mirrored in full.” Retorted the man through muffled, gag inducing bandages as plain and as calm as day.

He was not blind to this, Caravelles clear and apparent annoyance. In fact he went so far as to predict it’s outcome by previous reactions and that mask ..he..wore so reluctantly. Was that frustration he was resorting too? That biting undiluted sarcasm that drenched his retort back at the ringleader. All of this before event tying to see exactly what was in front of him. His words gave all the answers but the lawyer would or could not see..

No. He wanted the quick, the easy and the lifeless as if Westley prided himself in his own monochrome bliss that his title painted him. He did not see the masked mans answers for what they were and truly the masked man knew not how to give his such answers anymore cleare-

“ I was…bought by a very bad man.”

That soft voice chimed slicing through his own rather perplexed thought’s and immediately cause his head to involuntarily twist to face the source. Adelphie his apprentice. Interesting as it may be, while she had a troubling time with the language as a whole that she seemed to communicate so much better then he, at least enough to satisfy the Caravelle. An odd fact that was not lost to him and instead growing rather apparent, very fast. It seemed more and more each day that his own inner working “gears” whirred to a different sound and twirled in an entirely different direction then everyone else and while he never lost meaning to their words that they spoke, he did find it more and more difficult to talk and think like them. Like when he still had his old flesh…

It was at this moment that he noticed the residue of sadness on her features rather then being, happy and relieved like before .. Is death what she truly desired and in it’s place to spare his own? She was so young and yet already so altered and changed by life’s strangling, choking hands, did she truly feel that her art has already painted what it could? Why? She did not respond to his own words the second time, did not object… yet she did not accept what the ringleader spoke?

It was like several clear and apparent puzzle pieces missing out of the picture as a whole and it confused all too much…. What was he to her? What could he not see? Did she not see the colors he was trying to weave? That his “art” would eventually come at a steep cost of his life, an side effect he grew to no longer fear but expect… Why he was teaching her? His apprentice.

This was when he noticed the off colored spots on her skin which all seemed focus on her many limbs. In fact it actually started to look like all of them, all that he could see anyway.. All of the spots the source of holes buried into soft flesh. Holes he knew all too well..

This was Morrows torture? He questioned himself yet he knew exactly what the answer was. Suddenly life became rather numb around him while Adelphie and the Caravelles voice became rather mute. He knew she was going to get tortured, it was not a surprise and he it was of no surprise to him of the horrors that could come of Professor Morrows …tiny box of a room. He knew it, accepted it with the simple comfort that death would be unlikely, that courts may let her go and that his art and…word may continue to be spread. While all he accepted and understood he could not control this..feeling..this emotion that was rising uncontrollably from within

It was then Adelphie felt true human emotion from the jester. Like faint echo on dull metal of a long fallen machine reminding all that could hear of the faint traces of what it use to be. It was true anger, true sorrow and even …concern.

“No…” A single word escaped through the bandages, a single uncontrolled unhinged word straight from the nameless mans hidden mouth. A very human voice….. No poetry, just emotion…. What was she doing to him?…

“No.”

It was perhaps panic and realization that his often quiet apprentice was changing HIM and not the other way around that snapped him out of his own thoughts and back to the gritty reality of that metal cube. His head now hanging low as his locks now fully covered his bandaged face, as if trying to hide what they already could not see… As if his humanity would leak through. He had to get out of this….room.

“ I… I… …My…face… I need it back.” Control, he needed it back..


--------------------
There is a red and angry world.
Red things happen there.
The world eats your wife.
And eats your friends.
It eats all the things that make you human.

And it turns you into a monster..
PMEmail Poster
^
Derrick Breckenridge
 Posted: Apr 18 2012, 08:09 PM
Quote Post


Member

Male Human
Daredevil/Aerobat
Carnival of Amgine
player: Atrice
96 posts





"She is not a lady is she?"

"And you know this… how?" the guard demanded. "Intuited it from thin air, did you? Reached into those knickers and pulled it out of your arse?" He flicked a hand at the guard's face. "Sally off, now. I'll take care of this."

“ …Lucy.. Derrick, my name is Red Lucy.”

The guard froze, scandalized by the woman's interruption. His grip tightened on the hilt of his night stick, an automatic reaction to any prisoner who dared show him insubordination -- but this was a woman. There was a different set of rules for these strange, foreign beasts, wasn't there? Shoulders tight, the guard's head snapped to Derrick, who looked just as startled as he that Lucy had spoken.

It took about two seconds for Derrick's amazement to give way to smug gratification. He leaned forward as far as the bars would allow, which had the rather unattractive effect of squashing his face between the bars like a grimy, ill-groomed sandwich. "That is one helluva name, miss," he said, showing off his slightly crooked teeth.

Derrick had more than a passing familiarity with pseudonyms. Fact was, nobody had one unless they were a performer, a criminal, or a runaway. Derrick could sympathize, considering he was all three. "Why d'they call you Red Lucy?"

The guard wasn't paying attention. He was flipping through the stack of papers he'd been carrying, a look of puzzlement and, gradually, irritation showing plainly on his face. Bollocks. The newbie was right -- all the cells on this block were filled to capacity, save for this one. He glanced at the other guard, noting, with some ire, that he hadn't yet left.

"Well look'it that, they're getting along swimmingly," he said, loathe to admit his mistake. He pulled a ring of keys from his belt loop with the air of a man who had been planning on this outcome from the start. "Maybe we'll try this out for a bit. You can be a 'gennleman,' can't you, Derrick?" The guard fitted the key into the lock, gave Derrick an unmistakeable warning glare, and swung the door open. "All right, little lady, just holler if this degenerate tries anything fresh."
PMEmail Poster
^
Adelphie Chi
 Posted: Apr 18 2012, 11:56 PM
Quote Post


Member

Female Surged Toumind
Priestess/ Ringmaster's Apprentice
Carnival of Amgine
player: Silkspinner
164 posts





The stirrings of emotions surprised her, but only a little. The Masked Man was human, Adelphie believed that..quite probably more than anyone else in the world. No, the part that surprised her...

Was the break.

She'd sensed emotion from the Nothing Man many, many times. He toyed with them, manipulated them, observed them like playthings...even within himself, and despite a rather fanatical devotion to controlling them. Emotional control was a fundamental practice of her Order, though not one she'd personally pursued deeply, and comfortably familiar to the young Priestess.

What she'd never sensed from her...mentor? What she'd never sensed from the man...was for then trickle to begin and then find his desperate fingers unable to plug the hole in the dike. No...the surprise came when he failed, and the dam shattered.

The wide-eyed, surprised-looking prisoner didn't blame him. She didn't think less of him...after all he had been through of late, for how long he had lived beneath Vari's feet, only to escape and then have it unwravel, and be dragged into a different hell? No. She didn't blame him, how could she? Not when she was so sure that, despite his frequent claims to the contrary, that he was just a particularly unique person.

Her hands were on both of his emaciated shoulders almost immediately, rolling quickly over those tentacles in an entirely inhuman way, curling around the chair almost serpentine to look at him from the other side. Mind racing, and eyes pained at the panic. Her face was streaked in deep blue.

Paused. Hesitated. Finally, softly... "Not your mask right now...Morrow weareen it. Has makeen it one of his faces. Same mask, not...not your face at all. Not at all." She tilted her head. Quiet a few more moments, before the next soft observation. Her voice was gentle, and uncharacteristically...calm. She had something outside of her own troubles to concern herself with right now. Much in like the Guiding Light pit, when she'd calmed down long enough to fix his mask. For that matter...how many times had he calmed her panics in the darkness since then...admittedly, in that bizarrely detached way of his?

"...Have to geteen it back. And...makeen it your face again."
PMEmail Poster
^
The Nothing Man
 Posted: Apr 20 2012, 05:44 AM
Quote Post


Glorified Hobo Joker

Male Surge
Ringleader, Postmodern Anarchist
Carnival of Amgine
player: AyeeDee
449 posts





He was quite, and even as close as Adelphie got she would struggle to even hear a single breath drawn. His was head held low, completely still as if resemblance was not the only thing he shared with a common scarecrow. As if looking down would help nullify any intense feelings he got from looking at the lawyer or his apprentice.

So much emotion he could not control, so much various types and frequencies flowing and mixing together that it actually went as far as to actually pain him, like fire in his in the pit of his stomach. It was with both effect and the horribly rude shock that no matter how much flesh he tore out, or how much of his mind twisted and warped in the deep, dark pits of his very own reality that he cannot mask what he was. What he is.

Human.

What was worse perhaps was that his apprentice could now read him like a tattered old book blown down in the wind with all its pages bear for the naked eye to see. An extremely puzzling and mislabeled and torn book as it be. This fact of the toumind’s abilities was almost completely forgotten if not for the two gentle hands touching each of his shoulders and her words.. Not words of hate, nor of surprise but of comfort. Perhaps even of pity but he was far too pre occupied to truly judge, or study…

His focus split between recovery, with a desperate most likely failed attempt to read deeper into her words.

“Morrow wearin it.” “Same mask, not your face.” “ Geteen it back. And.. Makeen it your face again”

Words, almost poetic…Riddled… Familiar. Words laced with her view on his very mask and what it meant to her. It was always that mask she seemed to have some focus on, like a light shining through her darkness. It was almost a comfort to her, a comfort that was tainted and corrupted by Morrow. A loss to him that she seemed to dearly feel…. This fact did not escape his note as false as it may be and he found it rather Interesting, if not overly helpful and distracting.

It was her words rather then her touch that stirred him. That, inspired him. That caused his body regain composure and to swallow up those emotions like he has done so many times before and patching the shattered dam. The damage may be done, but it was no time to look back. Not now..

“ Oura, what is a face that can be… removed?” Along with the composure of his emotions, so did his voice but this time the question was awful monotone and muffled through thick bandages.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The young guard released the woman with the unusual name into the Elders care. The shackled woman did not struggle or fight and beyond the pause when answering the other rather goofy looking prisoners question, showed no signs of resistance even when it looked as if the Elder guard wielding that rather crude weapon, his night stick, looked as if he was about to brandish it and strike her.

The young guard watched all of this, his expression from under that thick helmet going from ashamed to rather amused through the course of the elder guards deciding process. It was perhaps lucky that he was wearing a helmet due to the rather large and apparent smug smile of satisfaction that now painted on his face as the elder guard realized that all the rooms were indeed filled to capacity and this cell happened to be a good fit.

“ I’ll leave ya to it sir.” Spoke up the guard, having to make damn sure he kept any of that smug satisfaction In his own helmet rather then out. It was the perfect time to make his leave before he could possibly get into anymore trouble and without so much as another word he vanished back into the twisting dark metal labyrinth.

The hooded woman stood there watching the rather chatty prisoner silently as the guard opened the cell door and ushered her in, shackles and all before immediately closing it behind her with a loud echoing clank. ( yep I just godmoded that like a boss)

Lucy simply stood there unmoving from where the guard let her in. This time however she was facing derricks direction seemingly peering into him as if studying him from under that dark cloth hood. It was as if sizing him up without a single would ,and testing just what kind of person this… Derrick.. Is when a foreign pair of authoritarian eyes were no longer around, would actually give her the answers she sought. It was a silent visual test where there were no questions to be asked and no answers to be told.

“Derrick.” Soft, almost hushed tones echoed the name through the closed claustrophobic box of a cell that caged the two strangers. It was not a command, a greeting or even a question but a simple word uttered out loud as if she wanted to test the name once more to see how it …felt. It was however the first break of silence since the door closed and perhaps a good sign that Derrick passed his visual test.

She took a step forward, closer to him where the pale grey skin and flaming red hair could be seen all to easily, even in the dimly lit cell. Still her eyes were not visible through the veil.

“ Why do they call you….Derrick?”


--------------------
There is a red and angry world.
Red things happen there.
The world eats your wife.
And eats your friends.
It eats all the things that make you human.

And it turns you into a monster..
PMEmail Poster
^
Adelphie Chi
 Posted: Apr 20 2012, 01:41 PM
Quote Post


Member

Female Surged Toumind
Priestess/ Ringmaster's Apprentice
Carnival of Amgine
player: Silkspinner
164 posts





Her attention on the jester remained intent and unbroken, face remaining concerned. It did feel like he was steadying himself, slowly regaining his footing. She hoped it wasn’t too fast…that the break, the needed and potentially cathartic release, had run its course.

Still…even as she concerned herself with bolstering his strength, Oura would be lying to say the philosophical question, a moment in this awful place that felt very much like those few fleeting weeks of eccentric peace and safety, wasn't tremendously soothing to her instead. As she always had, Adelphie considered each answer patiently.

“Is...a mask. Is…like everybody else’s face: changeen, removeen, replacing. And is…vul-ner’able.” Finally, she managed one of those crooked smiles mentioned so long ago. “…Stolen…little more strange problem, though.”
PMEmail Poster
^

Topic OptionsPages: (15) 1 2 3 4 5 ... Last » REPLY  TOPIC


 


 

Skin based on Floral Lullabies by June of Innovation Designs. | Email Admin | Legal



RPG-D Shadowplay Topsites Caution 2.0 redcarpet&&rebellion. NEVERLAND Total Drama Website - Directory of the Best Role-Play Sites
Roleplay Gateway

Full page: cbox.clockworkrpg.com