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

[badgerlock]

I might be able to help if I have a closer look.

[flashystyle]

You just might be the only one I know that asks me to come see you, then proceed to ask how to mock me. Either are suitable, though Lord Dorian sounds much more imposing.
If you actually want to be out in the sun, we could take a walk around those public baths, or whatever they are. Or the train to Flona, as I have free tickets for all my hard work.

[vorrutyer]

What - to the beach? That sounds marvelous. I haven't been out there since the autumn. We could go sailing.

[flashystyle]

Oh? I don't know the first thing about boats, other than I get sick on them. You'll have to teach me.

[vorrutyer]

You won't get sick when I'm sailing. I promise you that.

[flashystyle]

We'll see. I'll meet you at that station, don't miss me too much, all that.

[vorrutyer]

Bring something fetching to wear.

[persistor]

We posted what we managed to translate already.

... But no one's stopping you from looking at the books yourself.

[gekkajuu]

I truly believe that anything is possible, here.

Besides, if that kind of cross-breeding can happen, there's no reason to presume that the mother is the human.

[Except for the text that brought them to this discussion in the first place, but.]

[summertimeblues]

[The laughter is like being showered in gold. More attention and applause, please, a former celebrity (minor but much beloved by listeners in LA and beyond) languishes without regular reassurance they still had it.

Even more delightful, Prior plays along and not shabbily, either. He switches to his own creation, Colonel Buford Kissdrivel: old southern money and pompous buffoon.] Well, I reckon anuhtha mint joo-lep oughta clear the air, mah dear, I'll meet you on the veranda with a pitchah and a pair o' highballs. [Normally, now.] I'd say standard spooks and rattling chains like old Jacob Marley might help. If you could drag the culprits down to hell with you that'd be even stevens.

[Prior brings up a good point. One he shamefully failed to consider, it's an obvious thing in retrospect. Richie puts his chin in his hand, rapping his fingers thoughtfully against his lower lip.] You're right. It is suspicious. The text itself only refers to stuff around Wyver and the religions there, even if most of that didn't turn out into complete sentences. Maybe it's the big wigs up here trying to get a closer look into whatever tricks they might try pulling down south.

[summertimeblues]

[Richie has the werewithal to keep his anguish down to a hiss this time. In turn he shoots Red a withering look.]

quit trying to ruin my dance career.

[Honestly, if they get kicked out it'll be because she can't keep them feets to herself and she's too adept at hitting the same bruise. Such unnecessary violence.

On the other hand, he's delighted with the new knowledge of what the food section of emotes are really for. Thanks bud, will use this recklessly.]

maybe they were sacrificing their enemies? If it was a struggle to hold the sucker down that would make sense too.

on another note, one of our avid listeners pointed out that it's a tidbit suspicious that the fair city of Olympia is paying a high buck for all this prime Wyver know-how in the middle of all this contention. Did they know what might be in here, you think?

[summertimeblues]

is someone paying you to be obtuse because you are a fucking professional

also quit saying poppet, you sound like a cartoon villain

[vorrutyer]

Ah. Is that the genesis of your fear? That I am a wicked man, and if he wakes, we'll be wicked men together? Do you think I'd make an ally of your butcher?

[summertimeblues]

please. you're annoying, not a baby killer.

[vorrutyer]

Ah, but you can't know that for sure, can you? At the end of the day, evil could be lurking inside me. The only way you could have some advance notice would be if, say, some compatriot from my own home world gave you some advance notice.

[summertimeblues]

if you're so bad then why are you so concerned? or maybe I should go square it with your cousin. at least one of you is halfway reasonable.

please find a new hobby.

[vorrutyer]

Have you given any part of this story to anyone besides me?

[summertimeblues]

oh you bet!!! i sit down with everyone I meet and hand them a crumpet while talking about the good old days, when they found my schoolmates floating in rivers and bobbing under sewer drains

It's a real popularity boost, you should try it someday

[vorrutyer]

Just so. Run it past someone you trust a bit more than you trust me. See if they want to know the identity of your butcher.

[summertimeblues]

[He already has. Been forced to twice now — Steve had been beside him when they first found the pod and had to drag him out on wilted knees. Yusuke had caught him in the middle of a nightmare, and Richie gave him what he could without spilling all the beans. He was so young. Which meant he was in a far better position to fight back, but it made Richie all the more fearful to let him near the problem. Being a kid made him likelier to die, and he's too headstrong to back down from a fight.

Make that three times. Boxer...fuck, he'd never gone on a high where the other guy got to see what you were hallucinating, but there you had it. Yet ol Boxy and his girlfriend Red were just as cautious, and now they all hung out without saying a word about their respective troubles. Secrets bared but never clarified. An understanding all three appreciated.]

Jesus, was all that needling and snarl you trying to get my trust? You're a goddawful interrogator.

[summertimeblues]

I was assuming they fed the guy to the dragons, but that's also a horrid possibility. Don't put anything past crazy or religious zealots, and these chucklefucks were both. Terrible combination.

[summertimeblues]

[In turn, he'd made a hurried excuse to leave. Gotta go pals, I've got a stew in the crockpot and it's high time I turned the heat off. Richie's got his bag slung around his shoulder and his winter jacket back on, making his way down the stairs double-time.

It's not enough. She's already at the foot of the stairs. He stops abruptly, one foot hovering over the next step.

Goddammit. He puts on a sweet smile.]

Hiya Rosie. Mind keeping your voice down? If you speak too loud they come around and swat you with the biggest hardcover in reach.

[vorrutyer]

How on earth, dear fellow, did you get "trust me" out of that command? No. I truly couldn't give less of a damn how you feel about me. [ Not true, but, well, you know. ] Let's just say that not being a child murderer also extends to not wanting to wake up one day to find a trail of tiny feet and dismembered chubby little arms. And forewarned, forearmed, etc. - and you, dear fellow, are quite a weapons-hoarder.

Run it past someone else. See if they share my fears. If they don't, then fine, tell me to go screw. But if someone else is also ever so torn up with worry for the tiny babies, then maybe you might want to consider spilling one or two of those secrets of yours.

text; un: flashgoddess

[catfident]

Nothing about gremlins but we found a few notes about our lady goddess Thesa if you're interested.

[originallutece]

[What an absolute asshole.]

A swatting would only do you good. You weren't leaving, were you? Just as I told you I was arriving?

[Of course he was, which doesn't help her temper any. She takes a few steps upward, smiling in a not-very-nice way at all, and turns one of her fingers in the universal signal for turn around.]

March, Tozier. Up you go. And don't call me that.