father abel nightroad. (
bloodsugar) wrote in
mayfield_rpg2012-02-20 09:53 am
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Entry tags:
[008]
A): phone - mid-morning.
[OPEN;]
[one hazard of spending a good deal of your time lurking on the phone lines is that one might become prone to forgetting that people can HEAR you while you listen. so, it's entirely innocent, of course, when the half-absent and somewhat petulant mumble comes across the phone lines sometime this morning.]
...all this talk of Valentines Day... honestly! As if they're rubbing it in some of us are destined to be forever alone. 'Vow of celibacy'? More like vow of perpetual and ongoing boredom.
[...a pause.]
It's not like I wanted to find out what a romantic holiday with another human being is like, regardless... eh? I'm sure edible underwear isn't all it's cracked up to be, anywa--
[...]
Eh? [wait for it.]
AH--
[...there's a rather flustered squawk, and a hasty CLICK of the phone into the cradle.]
[filter to Charles Fei-Ong]
Alright, so maybe I'm a little late in checking in. You'll forgive me, right? After all, I'm sure you've been busy collecting recipes and taste testing! [no really are you okay... :| last time he saw you, after all, was... uh, colorful, to say the least.]
...I don't suppose you'd be up for a cup of tea, Charles? [he has a feeling you'll just bs him even if you weren't alright over the phone, anyway. CLEARLY HE MUST BE NOSY IN PERSON.]
[filter to Esther Blanchett]
Esther-- do you have a minute? There's... ah, something I wanted to ask you. [AND IT DOESN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH EDIBLE UNDERWEAR HE SWEARS DEAR GOD.]
[filter to Django]
How are you holding up, partner? I hope the radio silence is because you've been gloriously enjoying the sunshine, hm? Making up for lost time and all that...! [are you okay partner? :(]
B): action; 1648 Albright Lane - lunchtime.
[there's the smell of something burning, late in the morning approaching lunchtime -- and if Rachel or Cain follows their nose, they might find the source in the form of one (1) Abel Nightroad with his drone wife's FRILLY PINK APRON several sizes too small draped around his neck and haphazardly tied back in the process of butchering... grilled cheese. yes, he is a total failure.
...somehow, he's gotten butter all over the counter and is trying to catch an overturned bottle of orange juice that is apparently spilling its contents over and onto the floor. the pan is burning and he's jostling cups and plates, trying not to drop EVERYTHING EVER as he fumbles to cease the spill of juice fruitlessly.
NO ONE SAID YOUR DAD WAS GOOD AT BEING DOMESTIC. this is why.]
C): action; around town - afternoon.
[the tall, lanky, and often times clumsy priest is among your streets today, Mayfield! anyone similarly prone to hitting up the bakery quite often might recognize his face, or simply wish to gape at the way he's leaving cheerily with a bag under his arm and so engrossed in the effort of inhaling the vanilla frosted doughnut in his hand he is clearly not paying attention to anything else. ...like the sidewalk. which, he may or may not inevitably trip over at an uneven crack and WOEFULLY lose his doubtlessly precious bounty as the bag tumbles to spill the fruits of his labor everywhere...
...and maybe his doughnut might happen to ah. misplace... itself from his hand and end up on your face. WHAT DO?]
D): action; church - evening.
[Abel's day eventually brings him to someplace to seek solace, to rest a weary soul... or something of that effect. one who enters might be hard pressed to FIND said priest who should be more or less easy to spot on the regular, right? how many 6'4 lanky bastards in cassock ARE there in here?
...but if one is apt enough, they might notice that the Father's side of the confessional is occupied. do you care to confess? ...or notice that said Father might just be lightly snoring if you listen hard enough...]
[OPEN;]
[one hazard of spending a good deal of your time lurking on the phone lines is that one might become prone to forgetting that people can HEAR you while you listen. so, it's entirely innocent, of course, when the half-absent and somewhat petulant mumble comes across the phone lines sometime this morning.]
...all this talk of Valentines Day... honestly! As if they're rubbing it in some of us are destined to be forever alone. 'Vow of celibacy'? More like vow of perpetual and ongoing boredom.
[...a pause.]
It's not like I wanted to find out what a romantic holiday with another human being is like, regardless... eh? I'm sure edible underwear isn't all it's cracked up to be, anywa--
[...]
Eh? [wait for it.]
AH--
[...there's a rather flustered squawk, and a hasty CLICK of the phone into the cradle.]
[filter to Charles Fei-Ong]
Alright, so maybe I'm a little late in checking in. You'll forgive me, right? After all, I'm sure you've been busy collecting recipes and taste testing! [no really are you okay... :| last time he saw you, after all, was... uh, colorful, to say the least.]
...I don't suppose you'd be up for a cup of tea, Charles? [he has a feeling you'll just bs him even if you weren't alright over the phone, anyway. CLEARLY HE MUST BE NOSY IN PERSON.]
[filter to Esther Blanchett]
Esther-- do you have a minute? There's... ah, something I wanted to ask you. [AND IT DOESN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH EDIBLE UNDERWEAR HE SWEARS DEAR GOD.]
[filter to Django]
How are you holding up, partner? I hope the radio silence is because you've been gloriously enjoying the sunshine, hm? Making up for lost time and all that...! [are you okay partner? :(]
B): action; 1648 Albright Lane - lunchtime.
[there's the smell of something burning, late in the morning approaching lunchtime -- and if Rachel or Cain follows their nose, they might find the source in the form of one (1) Abel Nightroad with his drone wife's FRILLY PINK APRON several sizes too small draped around his neck and haphazardly tied back in the process of butchering... grilled cheese. yes, he is a total failure.
...somehow, he's gotten butter all over the counter and is trying to catch an overturned bottle of orange juice that is apparently spilling its contents over and onto the floor. the pan is burning and he's jostling cups and plates, trying not to drop EVERYTHING EVER as he fumbles to cease the spill of juice fruitlessly.
NO ONE SAID YOUR DAD WAS GOOD AT BEING DOMESTIC. this is why.]
C): action; around town - afternoon.
[the tall, lanky, and often times clumsy priest is among your streets today, Mayfield! anyone similarly prone to hitting up the bakery quite often might recognize his face, or simply wish to gape at the way he's leaving cheerily with a bag under his arm and so engrossed in the effort of inhaling the vanilla frosted doughnut in his hand he is clearly not paying attention to anything else. ...like the sidewalk. which, he may or may not inevitably trip over at an uneven crack and WOEFULLY lose his doubtlessly precious bounty as the bag tumbles to spill the fruits of his labor everywhere...
...and maybe his doughnut might happen to ah. misplace... itself from his hand and end up on your face. WHAT DO?]
D): action; church - evening.
[Abel's day eventually brings him to someplace to seek solace, to rest a weary soul... or something of that effect. one who enters might be hard pressed to FIND said priest who should be more or less easy to spot on the regular, right? how many 6'4 lanky bastards in cassock ARE there in here?
...but if one is apt enough, they might notice that the Father's side of the confessional is occupied. do you care to confess? ...or notice that said Father might just be lightly snoring if you listen hard enough...]
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...I'm sorry, I'll take better care of your tummy from now on.
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Really?
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[That just means he'll ask Abel if he's ABSOLUTELY SURE he wants the food, before poisoning him with it.]
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he sniffs, before setting his cheek back down.]
...Good. I... don't want to do this again...
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[He's willing to bet you'll even be hungry.]
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I'm here, just close your eyes.
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...little to the left.
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but he's starting to sincerely relax after a minute or two; it's not like he could resist the comfort of Cain's presence, nevermind an affectionate gesture.]
...hey... Cain?
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Mm?
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You know I love you, right?
[...]
Even if you poison me.
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[Ah. His voice has softened and there's a real, genuine smile at his lips.]
I love you too.
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[and never forget it, either!!]
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[So go to sleep, he's right here.]
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zzz.]
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Except watching Abel sleep is kind of hypnotically relaxing, and before too long Cain is asleep too, curled up on the floor beside the couch.]
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when Abel stirs from his pleasant dreams of a world in which his little brother doesn't troll him into repeated bouts of poisoning, he finds that little man so adorably curled up beside the couch and his heart tugs. he looks so cute this way... tiny and vulnerable. ;;;;; HIS HEART.
he gently scoops him up and lays him down on the couch, reaching for the blanket neatly folded over the arm and draping it carefully around him, trying not to disturb his slumber. it seems now would be a good time to go and see to a few things, while Cain enjoys his pleasant little nap. <3]
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Abel makes some phone calls, and slips from the house after getting in contact with Sister Esther; it's gotten dark out by the time he returns, dinner hour having come and gone as the door opens and clicks quietly shut behind him.]
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So he's sat by the window, waiting for his brother to come home. Where did you go, bro? ):]
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he looks a little surprised to see him there by the window.]
Cain?
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Welcome home! Miss Astha made stew.
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irony of this icon being from that scene go
adcskjd oh god i'm dying
...../quietly questions why people let me rp
because you're awesome
awesomely HIDEOUS
awesomely AWESOME p_o
awesomely awesome.... ly HIDEOUS
hideously awesome..?
...non. also keywords...
oh good lord
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