( chris. )

public } video

[A few hours later: find Cassel, peeved, broadcasting into all of your . . . wherever you happen to be at the moment. He's never been this angry in his life. (Lie.)]

Someone tell me it's all a horrible dream and I didn't seriously miss Amsterdam.

private, separately } daneca, chris, anya, mickey

[Cassel sounds earnest, looks drawn. For all the world like he's really scared but trying to hide it to make people feel better.]

You there? Hey, look, if you're out there alone we should meet up. Everybody's going fucking insane.

. . . Er. Insane-er.

spam

[When he's with people, or when he knows people are watching, Cassel looks - not helpless, but weak, exhausted, overwhelmed. He projects through the crease between his brows and the tense hunch in his shoulders the perfect image of a boy who has done this too many times before and just wants to rest, just rest, get away. His disguise is almost flawless. He's very good at what he does, after all.]

[But catch him off guard and you'll see him for what he is: calculating, every minute, every second. His eyes are what give him away best of all. They're ice cold unless he makes himself put on the friendly face, which grates on him; he tries to get away without it whenever possible.]

[When it's his turn to watch the camp while the others rest, he goes a little farther out than strictly necessary, stepping deliberately outside the boundaries of camp to patrol for easy prey, for trespassers. He doesn't want to win this - honestly, despite his own heady narcissism, he doesn't think he can win a contest of brute force like this - but he can survive, and he can get a little revenge while he does it.]


( ooc; cassel is SWAPPED but stridently pretending not to be, deets here & here. )

Whoever brings me ibuprofen and weed first gets to be my best friend for the next week.

What'd I miss? Needy, where the fuck are you? Where's my cat?

private } daneca

Was there a flood? I heard there was a flood. Did it get you?

spam } open

[The first thing Cassel does - after a really solid lunch and a long shower - is get down to the gym. He doesn't know what's happened to Mindy, but it seems like he's on his own here for a little while. So he meanders through the gym equipment, cleaning, re-organizing, and very obviously brooding.]

I'm looking for Barron Sharpe.

. . . Anyone, I guess. But Barron especially.

Needy's in a coma. Nobody gets to draw on her.

[With the obvious exception of him.]

[And this time he doesn't light a candle in the chapel. Doing so would be implicit admission of his own doubt that she'd wake up.]

[She will. She's too goddamn alive to vanish like she never was.]

[Instead he treats this like an extended study and planning period. He can almost always be found in the library or on the deck, ready heavy, dusty tomes on demonology.]

[Open season to any psychics around: a bad dream. Or a memory, but fantastical enough to masquerade as a simple dream. It's about justice, and games, and a carnival death. It's about entertainment, and about despair.]

( cw torture/gore/tl;dr/dangan ronpa )

[And he wakes up. Sulkily turns on the network and speaks plaintively, too shell-shocked by his own mind and memory to censor himself.]

I dreamed about that goddamn bear again. Let me into the pub.


( ooc; cassel is a super high school level gambler from dangan ronpa! he was also super murdered by monobear. feel free to pick up on that if your character has psychic powers. more info here. )

Okay, everybody, I realize we're all busy, busy people with busy, busy prison lives, but there's something important that needs addressing, and that is: I need my beauty sleep.

Which means I can't keep working double shifts in the gym.

Which means one or two of you assholes should come help me out.

Bored inmates get priority over bored wardens, prerequisites include being able to Windex stuff, and if you try to stab me in the back I'll turn you into a fish.

Czeslaw's gone. His door and everything is blank.

. . . I don't really think he made many friends while he was here, but. I'm going to light a candle for him, if anybody wants to join me.

spam } chapel

[It's quiet and still in here, which is good; it matches how Cassel is feeling. Quiet and still, like a windless world. He doesn't know what to make of this reaction. He can feel himself grieving, but it's muted, as though muffled by layers and layers of cloth.]

[With aching fingers he carves Czeslaw's name into a white candle, uses his lighter to light it. After a moment of watching the flame, he carves another name - Slevin's - into another candle, and Daneca's into a third, and hopes (doesn't pray) that they wake.]

voice, day 1

--ss? Anya? Peter?

[The slight hiss of indrawn breath, a result of having just run a very long way, or perhaps intense pain. Cassel's breathing slows, gets heavier; then it seems to occur to him, apparently for the first time, that this is not a direct line.]

Shit.

[Feed cuts off.]

video, day 2

[Sounding significantly more confident, Cassel is back, looking dirty and waving a splinted hand at the camera. He is also wearing a newsboy cap because fuck you, that's why, and also he stole it, and also it's a good luck charm.]

You people seem awfully upset for no particular reason. It's not like anyone broke your hand for no reason, and then insulted your family and threatened your livelihood, and then threw you out a window.

By the way, the one cussing and crying for his dad could be arrested if you wanted to arrest him. For assault. And rudeness.

Once that's done, someone ought to explain how currency works here. It's sort of vital for a functioning society, yeah? So draw up a diagram as soon as humanly or mostly-humanly possible.

spam } anywhen, everywhere

[Cassel seems perfectly thrilled to be here, at least after he locates Anya and Peter. His disappointment and worry at not finding Cass doesn't get past his bright smile, and he's mostly able to drown any fears out after the discovery of pancakes in the dining hall on day one.]

[When not eating, he can be found on deck staring at the stars - which he has never seen this clearly, the smog of the city and the overhanging buildings always getting in the way - or following people around, shadowing and imitating their walks exactly.]


( ooc; cassel is redux from the cogs and catches breach, a street urchin living with his twin sister and adoptive family in the steampunk city of aeris navem. )

( gift list )

private, Christmas Eve } chris

Hey, where you at? I have something for you.

spam } open

[Cassel's easily found; having come entirely out of his post-mirror-Barge sulk and found himself ears-deep in the Nutcracker, he's in a decent enough mood. Most of his time's spent in the gardens, library, or gym, when he's not engaging in Mystery Baking Companionship.]

deck spam } open

[It has been said in the past that Cassel walks like a leopard dressed up as a house cat. This is still - very applicable. It's just that he uses his claws more these days and cleans them less, and he only really makes an effort to seem nice when he wants something he can't get with threats or bribes.]

[He doesn't care about the deck, but he does spend a decent amount of time on deck even now, even with everyone milling around like assholes trying to claw their way to the top of the mountain. He has a plan. He will be living like a king regardless, when this place falls apart; it's just a matter of pressing the right buttons and getting certain stubborn assholes graduated before the end goes from nigh to right now.]

[When he isn't committing violent acts of overwrought and symbolic discipline, he arranges a folding deck chair by the starboard rail and occupies himself with one of two equally important tasks. First, mending holes in his gloves - the less-than-deliberate ones; there's a small hole in the forefinger of his left and the ring finger of his right that were arranged on purpose, bless Shandra's rotting heart. Second, sketching. He possesses a honed fascination with the human form, what it can become, how far it can be stretched - literally - before bones break. Before the psyche does. Here, he's been working on his pencil drawings for years. They're horrific. Some of them are probably familiar.]

( private } anya & harvey )

public } video

[For those who are old hat on this Barge, this display is nothing new. Cassel did it a couple of times with Anya - a whole lot more with Harvey. He's taken time after the blowback to collect himself, to grind his teeth until the pain flies off his face, to shake it off and push his hair back and adjust the cuffs of his gloves. He looks long-suffering, though bright-eyed.]

I realize we're all really excited about the door, but I still happen to have a job to do here, so - well. You all know how this goes.

[There's a cage approximately mid-deck, on a stand as tall as a podium, with a flat shelf. Something shifts inside it, then goes still.]

( cw; body horror, gore, torture )

[The camera shifts back to Cassel, then pans out to display the both of them. He gestures widely at the cage, a put-upon Vanna White.]

As usual, if you have any grievances to air with Harvey Dent, this would be an excellent time to do so. If you have any frustrations you'd like to take out on, you know, whoever, knock yourself out. He'll be on deck for eighteen hours.

Just restrain yourselves from killing him, if you can help it. I know it's trying.

( private spam } chris & slevin )