father abel nightroad. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bloodsugar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mayfield_rpg2012-02-20 09:53 am
bloodsugar) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-02-20 09:53 am
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...]
no subject
indignantly
vehement... thing. take THAT.]
--Are you kidding me?! [Abel hasn't forgotten that talk. HE HAS NOT.] Are you telling me, all this time -- you've been feeding off the drones?!
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outside of continuing to sit there with an expression caught somewhere between 'this is hilarious' and 'what is even going on here'...]
Is there something wrong with that? They're fine to eat. [EVEN CIEL AGREES so there]
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--Charles!! Why do you think that's even remotely acceptable?!
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...Ah, right, you're one of those idiots. [there are too many idiot piles to keep track of here!!] They're not actual people, so naturally it would be acceptable to most with half of a brain capable of thought. They're like walking blood bags, you know? And they still return if they're killed just like a sentient being does, so it's not as though having one for a meal would bother anybody. [let's see how many disturbing things he can say in one go...]
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Abel has some sincerity going on under the large dose of melodramatic exaggeration.]
They're still people! And... how can you know for sure they aren't just a resident being temporarily droned by the town? People are punished, and you'd be none-the-wiser if you didn't recognize them! Just because they return doesn't make it okay, does it...?
[oh no wait he's not done lecturing you yet]
Not to mention that some of them are our former friends and family. Would you want someone wearing the face of who you love to be used as 'food' by another vampire, Charles? I don't think the fact that they're 'just a drone' would give you much peace of mind if you had to see them being callously snacked on against their will...
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The same way you can say something like that. We're all free to our own opinions even if they're based in nonsense. [like Abel's, clearly.]
That aside, even if it is just a temporary droned state, it's not like they care much. If someone who drinks blood doesn't realise that the person they've selected isn't permanently droned, you must also take into account that the droned person won't realise that they've run into trouble while they were away from their body. That's just how things are.
[but that last statement invokes a bizarrely unreadable expression, and he tilts his head forward a little.] Ah, but that wouldn't happen, so it isn't really a point that can be used in an argument, right? [because... he usually kills and/or eats them.... first.......
this is what you get for being friends with a yandere]
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there is a twitch of a frown at his brow. oh my goodness ALL THE INDIGNANT GOES RIGHT HERE.]
How can you be so sure that those aren't our friends at all? There's no way for us to tell just what kind of mix of technology or magic is being used around here -- and for all you know, being droned could simply be a way to conserve power for the town! We could be in a 'stasis' during that time... Do you think even if we aren't conscious of what happens, that makes us any less 'people?'
And-- [...wlaksjdf slightly flustered look. what in the world is that face, Charles.] ...How can you say that wouldn't happen--?
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can't hold all this indignation... he just looks vaguely irritated, why you gotta ruin tea time??]
That's likely the case. You weren't here for last March, were you? [so what if that whole thing had been passed off as a prank he believes it] But, you see, if they're in stasis, their bodies are useless to them. A vacant body is a simple meal. It's easy to comprehend, isn't it?
[and then just the most unnerving smile why] Trust me! This is one thing I'm very certain of.
no subject
aksjdkjgweroisgsdh
......asjdf.
he stares at him, and his expression has dissolved into UTTER SUSPICION...]
...How?
[yeah he's ignoring the rest for now because CHARLES WHAT....]
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Call it intuition. I'm usually very accurate when it comes to these sorts of things.
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...but the other part is going 'GOD YOU WILL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN AND THAT SMILE WILL HAUNT YOUR NIGHTMARES IN COOPERATION WITH A GUILTY CONSCIENCE'...
...
....
eventually, he flops back down into his chair with a dramatic groan, fisting silver hair into his hands to tug.]
Y-you say something decisive and disturbing like that, and then you don't explain? Intuition--? There's something going on here...
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And don't sound so suspicious, either. Intuition is intuition, right? I can't explain it.
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Nervous wreck?? Yes, that is an accurate descriptor considering what we're talking about, Charles--!! I don't understand how you can be so casual about human life...!
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I don't understand why you're throwing such a fit over it. A human life here is worth even less than one in our respective worlds, isn't that so? When death is so cheap, one can afford to spend a little more. [no charles rationalization like that only works if the person you're talking to is equally nuts]
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...Worth even less? [...]
No, I don't agree with you. The price of a life cannot drop in value. Arguably, human life becomes even more valuable here than at home, doesn't it?
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I don't see how you've managed to reach that conclusion when death here isn't permanent. Why should a life be considered precious if there's no end to it? [...this is also kind of how he views his own, which is why the comparison slips so easily without him really taking note that he kind of falls into that group even in his own world, whoops.]
With the amount of drones here, not even someone as vigilant [EYEROLL] as you would notice if one or two a day went missing. That alone should be proof that it isn't a problematic solution.
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[he shakes his head, holding a finger up!]
A life that can't end is no less valuable than one that has a set timer. We are the sum of what we do, not what we are. If we lived ten years or ten thousand, it makes no difference... Our lives are given meaning by what we do with them, not how long they continue to go on.
[and now he goes back to cupping his neglected tea.]
In a way... aren't you no better than our captors with talk like that? You're disregarding the value of a life and treating it like you deserve to choose what to do with it to serve your own ends.
no subject
But the frailty that mortality provides is what makes most value a life, isn't that so? To live with the knowledge that one wrong move might end it, and everything that person has ever done, good or bad, would come to an end; that is why most humans value existence so greatly. [very matter-of-factly.] So if you remove that, you remove a good deal of what makes a life precious. Mistakes can be made over and over again, revenge can be sought as many times as one pleases, and it all becomes rather repetitive and meaningless, yes?
[BUT WOW now his attention is captured, that comparison apparently gets under his skin... everyone he loves is getting droned okay the town is his Number One Enemy right now!!]
I don't place much value in a human life, but I don't often go out of my way to toy with them. [often being key, and only because he views them as not worth his time but details]
no subject
But it isn't what makes life precious. If we all lived our lives with the end in mind, we'd be very morbid people, wouldn't we? It's true that most of the time, human beings live believing they will one day die. But taking away that death-- only temporarily, mind you-- only means that what a single human is made to endure is excessive compared to the norm. The trials that people go through here do not end with death. Instead, they're forced to the brink... and maybe beyond it. So, it goes hand in hand with another thing that makes life precious... the stubborn human will to survive and endure.
Considering that the typical human life, unending as it is in Mayfield, experiences enough pain and heartache... do you really feel it's necessary to add to that burden? To tack on more pain? To teach a body what it is to die again, when they might have died many times already due to the town's cruelties?
[...'don't OFTEN' go out of my way to toy with them.']
...I think you're toying with them to see your own ends met, Charles. Killing a person to sate your hunger is no more acceptable than that woman taking all those lives to 'fix' the revival machine. When our lives become interchangeable and acceptable casualties, when you can use them up and throw them away... can you say you truly are so different?
no subject
As I've said, does it matter what happens to the body while the mind is away? A person is here- [he gestures to his head] -not here. [a sweeping gesture to the rest of his body
and then he looks absolutely furious for a split-second. the expression is quickly controlled, but the sentiment behind it clearly remains considering he just snapped that knife he had been twirling earlier in two.]
I believe we're done here.
no subject
[he watches him -- watches the knife snap, but his eyes remain on his face. he's ignoring the dismissal.]
For every time one of them dies... they suffer. They suffer scars their bodies might not carry with them, but those minds certainly will. On top of that... there are the wounds of those around them. People never take their loved ones dying well, whether they are promised to return or not.
Surely there is someone in this town who, if they were killed or put to death so callously, even in a droned state... you would feel sadness for. Pain. [he believes that, even if Charles speaks on it so casually.] Losing someone, even if we know they'll come back... is still a loss. Killing a person should never be something anyone else can brush off, reason away like... it's nothing.
Death-- and a life, is...
...it is never nothing.
no subject
There is no one in this town like that. [most are gone, and the ones that are left he desperately wants to distance himself from. now is as good a time to start as any.
discarding the broken knife unceremoniously, he stands and leans forward again, resting his hands against the table in a delicate way that directly contrasts his vicious snarl.] Your assumptions make me sick. Your lectures make me sick. Who do you think you are? [whoops yes that careful restraint of his temper is quickly slipping. he really looks like he wants to reach across the table and throttle Abel...]
no subject
he watches Charles' uprising calmly. if anything, he seems apologetic -- but not in the manner his friend probably wishes. he's sorry-- sorry that somewhere underneath that anger is a hurt and a pain. he knows it's there. how could he not? this is like a child screaming out, to him.]
Do you really see it that way?
I think the only reason you're so aggravated is that there's some measure of truth in what I'm saying. You recognize it, don't you? Even if you don't want to. [and he isn't saying that out of any arrogant righteous belief in himself... it's more like he believes Charles is in denial to protect himself from something. maybe multiple somethings. it's easier to hide from the pain and paint over it with pretty justifications, to hate everything, than to admit and face your suffering.]
no subject
as it is, he just seems increasingly agitated and less capable of cohesive thought. that look is something his mind almost instantly interprets as pity, ready to pick a fight as he is. he can't stand that, or how right Abel is.]
The only reason I'm aggravated is because I've spent nearly my entire life dealing with imbeciles like you who would turn a simple meal, a biological necessity, into a moral debate. What does it matter how I view my food? Why should I care about the happiness of livestock? [he pulls away from the table now, attempting to disengage from the conflict before he loses his temper entirely.]
If that's all you have to say, get out of my house.
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...okay no but still Charles ;((( they wouldn't be having this visceral a conversation if he were in a calm mindframe, huh...? it's inevitable they'll butt heads. Abel is rather profuse in his vomiting of idealism all over everyone, too... it probably isn't helping matters at present.
this is also increasingly ironic considering. you know. the food chain, to him. if Charles were a vampire from his world w e l p]
--Do you really think it's that simple?
[he's lifted up, too, though he's not trying to pursue him. he's not exactly moving for the exit, either.]
If you did, then you wouldn't care at all. You wouldn't care because none of them would mean anything to you! The only reason you would have to be angry at this town would be because it inconvenienced you, belittled you in entrapping you here, demeaned your pride, but that's... that's not the case, Charles, is it? You care. You care for them -- maybe not all of them, but you do, and you understand that lives are not as expendable as you preach.
Is it so terrible to admit? You don't have to care about everyone to care at all. You don't have to be a saint to see life isn't as black and white as you make it out to be. They aren't livestock and you know it!
...Are you trying to convince me you're right, or are you saying it because it's what you keep telling yourself to try and justify it all?
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