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
[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.
no subject
...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?
no subject
and see he'd be a little more wary with his words if he knew Abel was some bizarre vampire-eating vampire. granted just like TB's Vampires Are Different, his species is just mutant bats...
he listens to Abel's entire spiel with a surprising amount of patience, though it's pretty clear he's ready to snap at any given moment. deep breathing deep breathing]
...Don't project your own beliefs onto me. Why aren't the aforementioned reasons enough to be angry at the town? Why do you feel the need to convince yourself that it's much more than that? [a haughty lift of his chin. even if he's angry, these defense mechanisms are ingrained deeply.] I'm capable of being amiable without caring, you know. That's just common courtesy. Don't mistake it for something it's not.
no subject
look he's pressing all the buttons so unapologetically... he doesn't even seem concerned about it-- but he DOES seem concerned for Charles. the boy's got his full attention, furrow at his brow plaintive.]
I know you... care. And you know I know that.
[he knows it's difficult-- to be vulnerable, to know someone sees that vulnerability. but Abel hopes he knows he wouldn't use that in any wrong way at all. Charles no it's okay... all your feels are safe here.....]
I'll be your friend, even if you can't say it. As your friend, I'll never need you to.
no subject
the concern feels just as repulsive to him as pity, since he mentally puts them in the same category. to be felt sorry for, for someone to feel concern - it does make him uncomfortable. being vulnerable is difficult and not something he handles with grace at all. it's why he fights tooth and nail to keep it from happening.
now it looks like he's going to start laughing his ass off...]
It's truly incredible, how self-righteous you are! It's not a matter of being unable to say it, you idiot. Friendship, from you or anybody else, is not something I need or want. [HIS FEELS ARE SAFE NOWHERE]
no subject
If I believed that, then I would truly be a fool. You don't want to be alone, Charles.
[maybe... that's why he tries so hard to push people away and convince himself they mean nothing. he can't be hurt if he tells himself he doesn't give a shit about them anyway, right?]
no subject
of course, none of this shows on his face. he just gives a one-shouldered shrug, turning neatly on his heel.]
If I had a problem with being alone, I would have tired of it many years ago. Shall I show you to the door now? [despite the deceptively amiable tone, it's clearly not a suggestion.]
no subject
[you're not alone, anymore. he probably hasn't been for a while... Abel doesn't know he's lost someone -- but if he did, this would make much more sense. he's probably scared, isn't he? scared of losing what he has. maybe he would try to throw everything else away with it in hopes of never feeling like that again.]
...You're not alone, Charles.
no subject
or, you know, an entire shaker worth. he rests his hand against the knob on the front door.]
Thank you for taking time out of your evening to visit. [very polite, still quite controlled.]
no subject
he just wants him out so he can go back to brooding his evening away, doesn't he? Abel looks briefly conflicted. it doesn't sit right with him to leave Charles like this, but... he doesn't think he's going to get anywhere arguing with him. after all... the only thing he can do is the one thing that would mean the most in the end.
and that is to be there, right? at the end of the day... he will be there, like it or not.
he's reluctant, none-the-less, as he makes his way toward the front door where Charles is already poised.]
...Just remember what I said to you.
I'm your friend. And... I hope that you will believe it one day. [however little or much it means to you now, at least Abel knows it's true.]
no subject
the statement gets a brief wave of the hand and nothing more, since Charles has pretty much used up his whole patience quota for the rest of the week.]
Take care, and have a good night. [yes he is being ridiculously polite on purpose in the hopes that Abel will catch the subtle jab hidden beneath. it highlights his earlier statement about being able to be amiable without actually caring.]
no subject
...Thank you for having me.
[he's stepping outside, and giving him a little wave over his shoulder a few steps away from the house.]
And-- take care of yourself. I'll see you soon.
no subject
he waves from his spot behind the door and then quietly closes it behind Abel, off to (who would have guessed it?!) brood for the rest of the night.]