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

video | un: colt.saa

[shashka]

[ is he laughing? he's laughing. ]

Cute.

[ and look, the information is useful too. ]

[summertimeblues]

Isn't he just? Our little Henri Matisse.

[shashka]

I don't know if I'd go so far as to compare him to a frenchman. That's almost too cruel.

[ the French are reserved for his worst enemies, Richie. ]

I'd say he's more of a contemporary artist.

[silvercrusader]

Excuse you.

[Where the fuck did polnareff even come from, who knows, HERE HE IS NOW, SUMMONED BY THE MENTION OF THE FRENCH]

That'd be an honor to be a Frenchman.

[shashka]

You mean excoozey-mois?

[ when you butcher a language so badly it won't auto-translate. ]

If you ask me, there's never been that much to honor about the French.

[ look. it's not his fault he was born into a country where the former nobility were obsessed with the language. ]

[silvercrusader]

Yeah, but, uh, who's asking you? Oooh, nobody, that's who.

But hey, maybe your country's all that much better. Where you from?

[shashka]

But weren't you the one who eavesdropped on this conversation?

[ he sounds more amused than anything else. as to his country... ]

Russia.

[ well, the Soviet Union, technically. but for all intents and purposes, he was Russian. ]

[silvercrusader]

Oh.

[That is not much of a comeback, as far as Polnareff is concerned.]

You really think you got room to start critiquing the best place in the world?

[shashka]

It there something wrong with Russia?

[ ...there are many things wrong with Russia. but shhh. ]

[summertimeblues]

Damn, tell us how you really feel.

Okay, let's say he's baby George Grosz. Will that butter your biscuit?

[shashka]

There's just something about their pompousness that gets to me, that's all.

[ ...not that he was born in Normandy... ]

That works much better. though physically, doesn't he remind you of another artist of musical inclination?

[ don't let him down on this reference, fellow 80's man. ]

[summertimeblues]

Mind keeping the nationalism off the network? You've already got one riled up, let's keep it civil here.

[He says as he wastes literal hours trying to one-up Byerly Vorrutyer.]

If you're talking Bowie, I told him as much the first time I met him. Would you believe he's never heard of him? Fucking shameful. There oughta be a law.

[shashka]

True. There's a disturbingly large number of Frenchmen around.

[ and so far? he's the only Russian. unless you count the ones from space. ]

It's a real shame. Too many of the refugees out there are completely oblivious to the finer points of Earth music. And Bowie's always been a personal favourite of mine.

[ not that his dog is named after one of his albums... or anything... ]

[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.

[shashka]

How kind of them.

[ and he actually means it. he's not one to ask for anything in particular, but... this is tempting. ]

You could always try to put together a Bowie cover band until you get more.

[ not that he has all the songs memorized... at all... ]

[summertimeblues]

You kiddin'? I love music but trying to play it myself? Fuh-geddabout it.

Nothing's stopping you though, bud. Sounds like you've got a real passion burning.

[shashka]

I'll keep it as a hobby.

[ a pause. ]

Can't have people thinking I'm a bad Soviet, promoting the music of the bourgeoisie.