patheticvillain | forty-seven ➢ video

So, now that everybody's not infants anymore, we're leaving. For a while. Going to Chris's world and mine.

[Cassel looks the tiniest bit uncertain about this, glancing to Chris like you take this, I don't know what else to say.]

Yeah, so nobody blow up the ship while we're gone. Iris, can you watch the dogs? And Loki, you were an adorable kid and I'll bring back Oreos if you promise not to do anything stupid while I'm gone.

Anyway, we should be back in just a couple of days, hopefully [hopefully?? definitely?? help], at least in Barge time. So nobody break shit.

Oh, and we're kidnapping Scott.

Scottyyydog. Vamanos.

( ooc; cassel and chris are going to kick-ass land and then curse workers land. during their time in cassel's world they're going to be worked by cassel's mom to essentially switch personalities for a little while. more on this in return posts, which will be monday-ish! )

private } admiral

( written before 12/11 departure )

For Loki, ten helmets. With the cow horns and everything.

For Andrew, a photo album.

For Ben, a new mask and cape for Mystery Baking Companions.

For Babs, a lipstick dagger, grey gloves.

For Cass, I'm already making her black gloves (hand-knit), but I want her to have photos of her past time on the Barge, too. ( up to player discretion )

For Mira, new notebooks and old-fashioned quill-tipped pens.

For Duke, an oak chest with a hidden compartment. Good Scotch.

For Anya, new and strange liquors from other planets than Earth.

For Morgana, so much weed.

For Marsh, a tiny tiara for Aster, lots of interesting fabrics, a metal-studded teaset.

For Zane, grey gloves with hidden compartments for coins, so much weed, an encyclopedia of illicit plants.

For Mickey, the FF half of a broken heart BFF necklace set.

For the Emperor, The Epic of Gilgamesh, a DVD of Cats.

For Jackson, a life-size oil portrait of himself.

For Scott, pictures of his mom, black gloves with room for claws.

For Iris, a perfect replica of the weird Slevin-thing, mechanical rather than sentient.

And for Chris, same as last year: big tree set up for Midnight Mass in St. Peter's. Besides that, I want a leather-studded collar for Bowie, a new designer suit in red and black, with matching gloves, cufflinks in the shape of the Silent Hill symbol, and a perfect replica of Mom's Resurrection Diamond.

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[He nods tightly, gone mute now. It's more or less true, close enough to the truth for this conversation, and he can't bring himself to sketch out the rest of the details.]

...Fuck, Mic.

Jesus christ, your dad is a psychopath.

[Once upon a time, Mickey had denied this fact vehemently, but he really can't anymore. He swallows, struggling to speak.]

Just-- whatever you think you gotta do, you don't.

I don't want him to think I'm ashamed of us.

I'm not saying hide. You're not hiding here. You don't have to.

[And suddenly, yeah, he really gets why Cassel would want to stick around as long as he can.]

What if I want to marry him someday? You have to tell your family. It's just something you do.

[He can't think of anything to say to that. He feels like he should be able to -- like someone smarter than him would be able to. But he knows Cassel is smarter than he is and he clearly hasn't managed, and if telling Chris about the worst wedding of the century didn't help... He's stuck. Once again, he's at a loss. He thinks hard for a few moments, but strain though he might against the wall between his brain and his tongue, all he can come out with is:]

Just don't do anything too stupid.

I'll be smart about it. I promise. We'll go, we'll introduce ourselves, we'll have dinner and we'll leave.

Yeah.

[He sniffs, scratching at his jaw, still looking away -- he hasn't looked up at the camera once since he started talking again.]

'Cause Iris, she ain't gonna take care of that dumb fucking queerbo little dog of yours for long.

[It's his way of saying get back soon.]

You think she won't, but she totally would.

Anyway, I don't want to subject anyone else to my asshole inmate. I'll be back.

And don't insult Bowie, he's sensitive.

[That pulls his eyes back, and even a hint of a smile.]

That dog's gayer than you are, okay.

That dog loves me. I'm his best friend.

Anyway, he's not gay, he's not straight. He's fixed.

Pretty sure that's not how that shit works, dumbass. [He rolls his eyes, but fondly. The banter's done its job: he looks mostly normal again.]

You at least wanna take a knife with you or something? Admiral took all my good shit, but Ian's got plenty I been squirreling away.

[He gives a grin back, shrugging and glad he's not being talked out of this]

Seriously, should you be telling me that? Plausible deniability, man.

I'll be fine. I've got a gun, but I don't want to pull it on Cassel's blood.