video; un: rtozier

[summertimeblues]

[Surrounding a pair of stained and rumpled tomes is a jumble of a barbershop quartet. You have Yusuke Kitagawa, focus plastered to whatever he’s sketching in a tidy notebook. Red, last name unknown, is continuing to copy letters into her own collection and keeps her phone ready at her side. Richie Tozier and Dorian Pavus are the only ones paying attention to the video feed. Ironic, as neither one of them should even know what a livestream is.]

Greetings to the damned, coming in live from the asbestos-caked halls of learning down here in Olympia’s residential nerd district. My name is Rich, this is Dorian. Say hi Dorian.

Greetings, from your local residential… nerd? What does that even mean, dear Richie?

It means a well dressed man. [Richie smiles sweetly at the fossil sitting adjacent before turning his attention back to the camera.] Over here and ignoring the masses are people of lesser import. Anyway, we’ve all gathered here because we took up some of that under the table money in exchange for odd jobs, and today they stuck us up here in the book prison. We’ve been tasked with translating all this old hocus pocus and we found some interesting stuff, looks pretty well like a related spell. I know some of us remember that cuh-lossal skull in a cave. Terrible vacation destination, by the way, piss poor accommodations and it’s definitely haunted. Just a hunch, but I think something died in there.

More like they were rather exquisitely prepared, died, and then proceeded to serve a "higher calling." [Dorian rolls his eyes, leaning forward to take up more of the screen.] It’s a question of what that higher purpose is. Judging by the preparations of the whole thing, it’s either incredibly sanctimonious or incredibly… condemning. Shall we show them the texts?

[One of the people of "lesser import" look up at this time — the one with bright red hair — as if on cue ( really, it was just some good timing ). Takes a brief moment to roll her eyes at the dramatics unfolding in front of her, but she reaches for her phone nonetheless; soon, a text attachment shows up with the video. Otherwise, she doesn’t look like she has anything to add, and quietly returns to her work.]

There you have it. Take a looksee, it seems we’re missing a beginning and an end there. Any other fun tidbits would also be appreciated if you’ve got them. I personally have always wondered how bar mitzvahs are conducted in magical medieval empires. Do they have a ceremonial gremlin for it? I’m too scared to ask the locals.

[Richie suddenly frowns, sidetracked by the human noodle etching in silence across from him.] Hey Stringbean, what are you drawing? Is it me? [He leans across the table to snatch the notebook. Lovingly (and quite skillfully rendered) is the skull in said cave. Richie gasps in delight.] It is! It’s me when I’m dead! What a cuuuutie!

[He’s now leaning bodily over the table to pinch at the teenager’s cheeks. Red makes a face, the camera jumbles and goes flat and pitch black on the table. The last thing heard before the feed cuts is Richie’s yelp of pain (Red's boot has found his shin) and Dorian’s long groan.]

((OOC: The text will be added as a comment to the post! Any one of the four losers present may reply, but it's mostly going to be Richie and/or Dorian.))

Comments

[summertimeblues]

[Richie takes on airs himself, eyes narrowed in suspicion and adopting a voice that might strike as a ghost of the past in itself. If Prior ever paid attention to the heyday of anthology television, that is.]

A land of instant replay, lost memories on parade. Secrets exposed and mysteries unsolved. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call...the Twilight Zone.

[Then he too slides out of the act, and privately decides he rather likes this spindly fellow. He's thoughtful and takes a joke, seems to know his way around a dictionary. Artistic type, that's a bonus always.]

I'd say you've got a fair case for revenge haunting, certainly. We don't have a spiritual soothesayer among all these firebreathing warlocks and secret agents, do we? I've learned to expect the unexpected but never the useful.

[summertimeblues]

You can all fight over whatever debris and dirt you brought in from the homelands another time. For now we're all sad orphans.

[maybe if we stirred up an anna karenina fandom in rp the tides would change...]

I lucked out there. Someone upstairs got me Ziggy Stardust for Christmas. It's killing me not to wear it out but I must ration my Bowie until the next time they decide to throw me a bone.

[summertimeblues]

No, see, the other alien put on some smooth jazz and slipped its—

[It is precisely this point when the fussbudget turns up. Richie claps the trap and clasps his palms together with feigned angelics. Point taken though, this is the library. He shares a private smirk with Dorian as they leave, popping his tongue into his cheek to make a suggestive bulge. Blink and you'll miss it, and turned specifically to the side so the kid and the lady aren't privy.

He likes this guy. Dorian may be several laps behind the times, but he's got gumption and a proper sense of fun.]

it used to be an honor in some cultures, particularly if you had a swell deal in the afterlife for corking it in this one. In some of them you were told you'd get to become a god yourself.

That's a hell of an incentive to a barbarian if you ask me.

[tricksune]

[ Thankfully, discourse does not go the way of alien dingle-dongles. And Yusuke is, as planned, blissfully unaware of this tomfoolery, too absorbed in matters such as murderous dragon rituals. ]

As though someone gnawing on your femur helps one attain godhood? Ridiculous. [ He is judging all these incredibly dead people. ]

[priorly]

[It was the sixties, baby. What else was on. Prior laughs, clasping his hands together with the pleasure of recognition and - something mutual. It's so rare here. Though, as Richie goes on he shakes his head. He doesn't talk to ghosts, they talk to him.]

I'm sure I couldn't say. All this ooky-spooky talk's giving me a case of the vapors. [He fans himself, momentarily a Southern Belle.] And revenge may be a dish best served cold, but who knows how one serves revenge for having been a dish yourself.

[He pauses a moment, indulging a slight tic of worrying a corner of his mouth in thought.]

I'm no student of the archaic and arcane, but I am curious, I admit. I wouldn't mind a look at the text. [Who knows if revelation's as applicable to ancient lore as it is to people. He has a book of dubious mysticism written through his blood: like may call to like.] My concern is why the translation's being done - the timing of it. Somebody protected this, and protected it well.

[punshots]

Iiii mean, I guess...everyone has their thing!

[ NO ONE'S "THING" SHOULD BE HARVESTING ORGANS...ugh. It's just like that simulation from a few weeks back. Y'know, he was perfectly happy going through life without seeing someone's arm and leg offered up to a hungry dragon, but here we are. ]

You mean, aside from the food? [ Thank you, he'll be here all week. ] The dragon cove is kinda...creepy. Couldn't really tell you why, though! It just is. Miiiiight be the giant skull.

[ What's with Wyver and their giant skulls??? ]

[flashystyle]

[Oh, the questions Dorian would have about alien dingle-dongles if it weren't for librarians and infantiles. He presses a hand to his chest and leans back in his seat as if he's positively scandalized, then hastily picks up his phone to send a bunch of questioning eggplant emojis and question marks to Richie.]

🍆🍆🍆🍆⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

[Ah. That's the group chat.]

Oh. My apologies, but still relevant. Sucking on skin is definitely preferable to to gnawing on bone, but these WERE centuries ago. They were primitive, then. Perhaps there was something addictive about this ritual, or it was... necessary. They don't seem to be doing it now that they're extinct.

[vorrutyer]

Good god, yes. Being cooped up with paper isn't good for the constitution, you know. You'll get fat and pasty and end up needing glasses.

[summertimeblues]

you of all people should be intimately familiar with how much a little backstory helps you grasp the present

[persistor]

[ Red was blissfully unaware of whatever stupidity Richie was getting up to until Dorian decided to completely ruin it. It doesn't take a genius to figure out, between Richie and Dorian, what the fuck eggplant emojis mean, which means—

She shoots a glare at Richie, and reach to kick his shin a second time. Dorian gets a pass because she just met him today, but he still gets glared at nonetheless. ]

"participate in the harvest more willingly" doesn't sound like it was addicting at all.

[summertimeblues]

have a hard time buttoning lip do you

[pot, kettle...]

[summertimeblues]

Not sure, but we've done most of our back breaking and are calling that tallyman to tally our bananas.

You're on your way aren't you

[vorrutyer]

I "of all people"? All I seem to recall about backstories is your marked refusal to pass on information when there's a potential for crosshairs, etc., in the future.

[flashystyle]

You joke, but I don't think I should leave this room until I can translate that. I'll let you know all the Olympian swears once I've collected myself from the excitement of it all.

Is Richie my boyfriend? You might be disappointed in the shy department.

[flashystyle]

I'll get fat and pasty anyway if I laze about with you. Why should I?

[summertimeblues]

[Go fuck yourself

Go fuck yourself

eat shit

Go fuck yourself]

I'm not dragging up twenty seven year old ghosts from a world that's dead for a red nosed snoop

[vorrutyer]

You will not! We'll go out and lay in the sun.

[vorrutyer]

Nor am I, poppet. Because your mad butcher isn't dead, is he? That part of your world is alive and well, if currently slumbering.

[originallutece]

I do like a man who's quick on the uptake. Yes, I'm on my way; I'll be there shortly.

[very shortly, in fact, because teleportation is a hell of a gift. Even if she can only zip a few blocks at a time, it still means it only takes her ten minutes. Suck it, city transportation.

She looks a little harried as she enters. She's carrying a rather large rucksack, and she keeps glancing down at it, making certain that whatever's in it is still safe and sound. But ah, she's a woman on a mission, and so--]

Mr. Tozier!

[You really shouldn't call out in a library, but since when has Rosalind followed the rules?]

I hope you haven't put those books away just yet.

[originallutece]

I prefer to think of it as refusing to stifle my opinions.

But yes.

[flashystyle]

So just fat, then.

I suppose I'll leave my esteemed company for you.

[vorrutyer]

Well, I won't get fat. I'm too fine a specimen. Where shall we meet, my good...
Heavens, what would a proper title be for you? Lord? Mage? I want to mock you with it.

[beatupgrass]

Oh not that part. Kree warlords and Accusers bathe in their enemies' blood. It happens. But are they seriously eating each other?

[flashystyle]

Not in the slightest. And I want you to look inside of yourself and ask if you truly believe it.

[priorly]

So you'll let me starve until you can whisper the right sweet nothings. Seems counterproductive to me.

And you surprise me, he's so quiet. Though never mind, the shyness only has to last until that ripping off the glasses - why Miss Jones, you're beautiful - moment, anyway. Maybe he can pretend.