Caliborn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scaremonger) wrote2014-03-15 10:13 pm
scaremonger) wrote2014-03-15 10:13 pm
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. ]
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. ]
spam
He has not had a great week, and while he's generally pretty good about not holding other people's bad moods against them, the garden and greenhouse has been somewhat of a safe haven for him and a few others on the Barge, so he's not especially interested in just sitting back and letting the place get destroyed while he's there and capable of doing something about it.]
no subject
I'm, uh. "Weeding". Let me take my aggression out in a productive way shitface.
[ And slowly he crouches back down, not actually breaking eye contact with the guy as he digs his claws into the soil and tears it up. He's trying to dig the roots of this particular rosebush out of the ground enough he can pull it out, and it's slow going but it actually does make him feel better. So Caliborn does not care. ]
no subject
[Of course, that's not an especially threatening statement, coming from someone who looks about as intimidating as a kitten, but Charles doesn't seem especially bothered or offended, and keeps talking in the same just about conversational tone.]
Of course, that particular rosebush is one planted by an old friend of mine, and prolonged contact with any part of it will cause your skin to blister and swell until your hands look more like balloons than anything else, so by all means, if that's something you'd like to add to your list of grievances, I suppose it's your business.
no subject
But he decides he's going to ignore that warning even if he believes it somewhat. ]
I don't have human skin. That shit is basically paper? Meanwhile. I'm like... concrete. Or sandpaper. I think I'll be fine.
So. If you don't like my gardening. You have to come and do that "making" thing. Which should be pretty funny.
no subject
That being said, he's also not really interested in getting into an all out fight with a stranger, so he just gently pushes the suggestion out that Caliborn should step away from the bush and leave it alone. It's subtle enough that he'll likely be able to pass it off as his own idea, and definitely not coming from the totally unthreatening human in the blue sweater.]