scaremonger | 01 - forward dated to post-event

[ VOICE ]

So basically. I'm in jail.

[ Caliborn lets a long silence pan out, intending it to hammer in the sheer injustice of it all. He is also obviously walking around, the dull sound of his metal leg against the floor ringing clearly. ]

All of my preparation. All of my work and devotion. And most of all. My self attained freedom. Is sooo totally gone now. Because some slippery bitch picked me up. Like. "Hey, Cal! You've been kind of evil. So come to prison." I mean, duh? Evil is my bag. But this Admiral Shitface did it when I was in critical fucking mission mode. It's like. No wonder he's not showing his face. He should be ashamed. For ruining my glorious self-suicide godhood ascension scenario.

[ His previously just indignant tone hits a lower note of blind fury, and the sound of him pacing around gets louder as he stomps. ]

And also taking away what rightfully belonged to me. I earned all of that freedom.

[ He reaches out and kicks a chair, which rolls and hits the far wall of his cabin forcefully. ]

More than any of you. I deserve that.

[ He swings out and there's a loud clamor as the chair hits the wall again, possibly snapping. Which is completely what actually happened. ]

Some worthless mother fucker is going to like. Wheel over here. "But what about meeeee." Or maybe. "Stop whining!" Or even. "I want to get punched in the face. And every tooth in my jaw. Shattered." Which is basically. Implicit in every single response. That isn't wholehearted agreement? But. To that bullshit, I say. Were you chained up most your life?? Stuck in a room with a shit tier sister who color coded things for you??? No? Then. You can't say anything.

[ There's a long wordless silence as he shuffles around, as much as stomping is shuffling. He huffs and the device gets picked up. A moment of hesitation is followed by him throwing it against the far wall with all his might.

It's muffled, but he shouts across the room at the dumb thing. ]

I'm going to throw a tantrum. AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.

[ SPAM ]

[ And then, not too long after the post goes up, Caliborn will be found wandering the deck. He's come up with the intention of ignoring people who don't talk to him, but it's likely that his short attention span will be scooped up by some interesting looking passerby.

Before that, though... he's definitely up to no good, either by attempting to fuck up the rose gardens in some creative way when he thinks no one is looking or staring vacantly overboard where he's thrown a wooden chair.

Space is pretty hypnotic. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I GIVE YOU THE SCORE OF -192132838934/10. IN THE CATEGORY OF "NOT BEING AN ANNOYING PIECE OF SHIT". WHICH MEANS. YOU ARE UNDOUBTEDLY. AN ANNOYING PIECE OF SHIT! CONGRATULATIONS.

AND MAYBE ALSO BEING. AN INSUFFERABLE KNOW IT ALL? SERIOUSLY. WORK ON NOT DOING THAT. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW MY TIMING WAS BAD. FOR PEOPLE TO PAY UNDIVIDED ATTENTION TO ME? ALSO WHAT'S A BREACH.

PS: I'M GOING TO USE THAT LEAFLET AS KINDLING. FOR MY CHAIR BONFIRE. MAYBE I WILL READ IT FIRST. "THANK YOU". I BELIEVE THAT IS THE EARTH HUMAN "POLITE" TERMINOLOGY. FOR SOMETHING GOOD HAPPENING?? I DON'T KNOW DUDE. I'M TOO BUSY BEING A RUTHLESS HOOLIGAN.

breach = an alternate reality that feels like the prime reality while you're in it. I've been a pirate, a suburban housewife with amnesia, a drink problem and the Master for a husband, a Duchess, another pirate, a witch and now a Grand Fairy.

sorry bb. it's hard not to occasionally be an insufferable knowitall when you know as much as I do.

why does no one ever read the futtering leaflet.

you enjoy your bonfire bb, I might come and douse marshmallows in gin and toast them.

[ He's about to angrily reply when something makes him stop in horror. ]

WAIT.

DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST CALL ME "BB". LIKE. SHORT FOR "BABY".

QUIT THAT. YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO USE THAT WORD AGAIN. AT LEAST NOT AROUND ME.

YOU CAN MAKE UP FOR IT. BY LIKE. GIVING ME A BUNCH OF MARSHMALLOWS. MAYBE *AN ENTIRE BAG*.

yes. yes, I did. I may remember not to do it again, I may forget, or I may remember and do it anyway. Life is filled with uncertainties.

you are welcome to marshmallows and gin. btw I'm Iris. I'm a bit indisposed just now but I shall have marshmallows delivered. did you say you were Cal?

Edited 2014-03-16 22:56 (UTC)

UH. HELL NO. LIFE IS CERTAIN. WHEN I WANT IT TO BE. YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO DO THAT AGAIN. OR I WILL COME AND PUNCH YOUR LIGHTS OUT? WHICH IS ANOTHER CERTAIN THING.

BUT YES. GIVE ME MARSHMALLOWS. AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK GIN IS. BUT I'LL TAKE THAT TOO. ONLY A FUCKING IDIOT WOULD TURN AWAY FREE SHIT.

WE'RE NOT TALKING ABOUT MY NAME.

only the very young and the very stupid really believe that, sweetheart. also, I punch back. that, if nothing else, is certain.

gin is a highly useful mental lubricant on this voyage, I always find. although do be careful, not all nonhuman physiologies can take it. I am having it delivered to the level five common room, since I don't know your room number.

can we talk about where you're from?

[It's true that Iris doesn't know where his cabin is, but her real reason for the common room gin drop is that her delivery staff are her dogs, and she's not willing to expose them to potential violence.

There will, should Cal care to go fetch it, be a bottle of gin, a large bag of pink and white marshmallows and another of chocolate-covered cherries left there in a carrier bag. The gin has been decanted into a plastic soda bottle, partly because that's lighter for the dogs to carry, but mostly because Iris has been stabbed by inmates with broken glass bottles twice now and doesn't see a need to make it easier.]

[ He taps away at the device even as he goes to the common room. ]

I'D BASICALLY LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY? I MEAN. I'M NOT GIGANTIC. BUT I CAN TAKE MORE THAN A LITTLE GIRLY ASS PUNCH.

[ It doesn't take long for him to figure out that the delivery boys are actually cute dogs. He won't hurt them because they do have really big teeth. Which he checks, patting their heads and then lifting their flappy dog lips up. Caliborn can appreciate animals with big teeth.

After his stupid derailment tooth check, he goes for the bag. Hell yes. Iris will quickly find the way to his heart is through candy. He sits down on a couch just to stuff his mouth full of marshmallows. ]

YOU BASICALLY GAVE ME ALL THE GOOD SHIT?? CHOCOLATES ON FLOPPY STICKS AND MARSHMALLOWS. AND I GUESS THIS WATER LOOKING STUFF IS "GIN". WHAT DOES MENTAL LUBRICANT MEAN.

ARE YOU FEELING REGRET. I HOPE SO. BECAUSE. THERE'S NO WAY YOU'RE GETTING ANY OF THIS BACK.

it's said that I'm constitutionally incapable of regret, sweetie. mostly, admittedly, by me, but it's true enough for everyday use.

mental lubricant: it smooths my thinking. it makes it vastly easier to do the stupid, risky shite I do without hesitation.

...my dogs like you. this is a good thing.

[ Ughhh she used some weird pet name for him again. It wipes away basically all his thoughts on anything else she said. He takes a second to chew so he doesn't sputter marshmallows in indignation when she's inevitably weird about it. ]

SWEETIE????? NO! UGH. ICKY GROSS NOPE. I'M GOING TO YELL AT YOUR DOGS. AND MAKE THEM FEEL JUST *DREADFUL*. IF YOU DON'T FUCKING STOP WITH THE PET NAMES!!

LET'S SEE IF THEY STILL LIKE ME THEN ASSHOLE.

oh for fuck's sake, are you five? I call everyone pet names. Deal with it.

NO. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME.

I'M GOING TO THROW A FIT. EVERY TIME YOU USE ONE ON ME. HOW'S THEM APPLES.

that sounds hilarious XD

bet you get tired of it before I do.

YOU HAVE LITERALLY NO IDEA. WHO YOU'RE CHALLENGING. TO A MATCH OF "FUCK OFF".

I SPENT THE BETTER PART OF AN ENTIRE YEAR. LOOKING FOR KEYS. IN A DESERT. THERE WAS LITERALLY NO INDICATION. IF I'D FIND ONE BURIED UNDER FIVE FEET OF SAND. OR. IF A KEY WOULD BE UNDER A FUCKING ROCK. IT WAS COMPLETELY RANDOM.

I AM PATIENT. *ENDLESSLY* PATIENT. I WILL DO. WHAT I HAVE TO DO. NO MATTER HOW EXCRUCIATING IT IS. AND EVEN IF I GET TIRED OF IT.

AND "WHAT I HAVE TO DO" DEFINITELY INCLUDES SHIT LIKE ANNOYING YOU INTO SUBMISSION.

tumut

darling, I'm Iris Wildthyme. I once took out a planetsized Elder God with nothing but a Radio Times and a pen, and I had to wait for thirteen years in a mental institution in someone else's - pretty unpleasant - body to get that job done.

in other words: challenge accepted, cutie.

01 - forward dated to post-event

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