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mayfield_rpg2012-04-11 11:53 pm
truffulacide) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-04-11 11:53 pm
Entry tags:
❀ 01
A. [ACTION: 917 BILKO BOULEVARD]
[before the Once-ler even opens his eyes, the first thing that immediately occurs to him is how fresh the air is.
even when he's straddling the border between the waking world and his dream world, it's immediately apparent. sleeping, such as it is, isn't easy to accomplish anymore. it's always fitful and restless and not really sleep at all; light napping would be more accurate. once, all he had to do was bury himself under his quilt and concentrate on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat to lull himself into unconsciousness. it's a little more difficult now. his breathing isn't so steady anymore; it's hoarse and when he coughs it feels like his throat's splitting apart. the air's too sour and smoggy to inhale without launching into a fit of hacking and spitting, but like most things these days, he's gotten used to it. you didn't even need willpower to force yourself to accept things anymore - all you had to do was give up.
he's lived in the valley long enough for his body to grow accustomed to the air, so naturally it senses that something is very wrong here before his mind even registers the fact. buried under his blanket with his legs sticking out in uncomfortable directions (and wow, did he outgrow his bed or did it somehow shrink?), he yawns and smacks his lips together noisily, a little trickle of drool hanging out of the corner of his mouth. he really must've been exhausted because, gosh, he can't remember sleeping this well since - well, since -
since the trees were still -
...wait. waitwaitwaaaait - was it sunny?
the Once-ler's eyes flutter a little before wrenching themselves open completely and he confirms within the rough span of five seconds that, yes, it is sunny and no, he isn't in his room. and this DEFINITELY isn't his bed, it's smells like fresh soap and cotton and it's way too cramped like... like...
what. the. heck.
he slowly turns over on his side and all it takes is the sight of the woman's blond head for him to bolt upright in bed and shriek at the top of his lungs.]
B. [ACTION: 917 BILKO BOULEVARD]
[lovely day, ain't it? maybe you're on your way to work. maybe you're a girl scout making your rounds. maybe you're just out for a walk, looking to stretch your legs and take in Mayfield properly before the powers-that-be go nuts and end up putting a damper on what could otherwise be a very nice week.
if you're expecting a relaxing morning, you definitely shouldn't pass 917. really, you shouldn't.]
- Hey!
[this is why.
even if you don't hear it the first time, that single word is repeated with a little more urgency (and a little more whining) until you give in and follow it to the source, which just happens to be the mail slot of this particular house.
the slot is open and a pair of blue eyes are peering out, looking straight at you.]
Yeah, you! Get over here!
[before the Once-ler even opens his eyes, the first thing that immediately occurs to him is how fresh the air is.
even when he's straddling the border between the waking world and his dream world, it's immediately apparent. sleeping, such as it is, isn't easy to accomplish anymore. it's always fitful and restless and not really sleep at all; light napping would be more accurate. once, all he had to do was bury himself under his quilt and concentrate on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat to lull himself into unconsciousness. it's a little more difficult now. his breathing isn't so steady anymore; it's hoarse and when he coughs it feels like his throat's splitting apart. the air's too sour and smoggy to inhale without launching into a fit of hacking and spitting, but like most things these days, he's gotten used to it. you didn't even need willpower to force yourself to accept things anymore - all you had to do was give up.
he's lived in the valley long enough for his body to grow accustomed to the air, so naturally it senses that something is very wrong here before his mind even registers the fact. buried under his blanket with his legs sticking out in uncomfortable directions (and wow, did he outgrow his bed or did it somehow shrink?), he yawns and smacks his lips together noisily, a little trickle of drool hanging out of the corner of his mouth. he really must've been exhausted because, gosh, he can't remember sleeping this well since - well, since -
since the trees were still -
...wait. waitwaitwaaaait - was it sunny?
the Once-ler's eyes flutter a little before wrenching themselves open completely and he confirms within the rough span of five seconds that, yes, it is sunny and no, he isn't in his room. and this DEFINITELY isn't his bed, it's smells like fresh soap and cotton and it's way too cramped like... like...
what. the. heck.
he slowly turns over on his side and all it takes is the sight of the woman's blond head for him to bolt upright in bed and shriek at the top of his lungs.]
B. [ACTION: 917 BILKO BOULEVARD]
[lovely day, ain't it? maybe you're on your way to work. maybe you're a girl scout making your rounds. maybe you're just out for a walk, looking to stretch your legs and take in Mayfield properly before the powers-that-be go nuts and end up putting a damper on what could otherwise be a very nice week.
if you're expecting a relaxing morning, you definitely shouldn't pass 917. really, you shouldn't.]
- Hey!
[this is why.
even if you don't hear it the first time, that single word is repeated with a little more urgency (and a little more whining) until you give in and follow it to the source, which just happens to be the mail slot of this particular house.
the slot is open and a pair of blue eyes are peering out, looking straight at you.]
Yeah, you! Get over here!
B
So he just gives a small blankfaced stare at he Once-Ler for a moment before reaching to pick a stick up off the ground and trying to quickly jab it at his eyes through the mail slot.]
B
thanks, Pokey.]
What the heck - OW! OW! Why - [you can hear him on the other end seething. possibly even trying to cradle his eyes.] - Why would you even DO THAT?! Are you nuts?!
no subject
[Anger comes pretty easily to Pokey. Sometimes it even comes for reasons he doesn't understand, a constant companion that peeks its head out whenever it wants to most, convenient or not. And recently he's just been angrier than usual. Partially because of the people he kept telling him they could build the machine he was trying to make to protect himself better, or the constant reminders that he was worthless.
The last thing he needed was some jerk shouting at him and making demands or taking a tone with him.]
Give me one good reason why I should answer anything for you.
no subject
the slot snaps shut. before you know it, there's a series of mechanical clicks as the locks are undone and the door swings open.
sup, kid. have a Once-ler, clothed entirely in blue pajamas. he crosses his arms and fixes his own evil eye down at Pokey.]
For starters, I can do something a whole lot worse than just poke you with a stick. Just gimme a minute and I'll think of it.
no subject
And then lets go of one of the stick, trying to hit the Once-ler in the stomach as the stick snaps forward.]
Yeah I'd like to see you try. Even if you could do something or have some power or have some weapon, it's gone now. Everything you have is gone the moment you're pulled into the town. It can be regained, usually one item or power or distinguishing physical feature or crap like that at the rate of once a month. Usually after the people in charge put us through some bullcrap.
You could also trade at the Post Office, which I wouldn't suggest. But you know what? Who knows. Maybe you'll have fun so go ahead and give that one a try.
no subject
- Would you stop it already? Believe it or not, I don't wanna pick a fight; especially not with some kid.
You don't know a thing about me. I know good advice when I hear it. [that's the closest you'll get to a compliment, Pokey. treasure it.]
no subject
[Pokey Minch - the wittiest boy in the world.]
I'd be careful about how you talk to people around here. A lot of them are dangerous, and some are psychotic enough to not care about killing you if you piss them off.
no subject
Well, from what I've been told so far, mostly everything about this crummy town is dangerous. Is there anything that isn't out to kill me?
no subject
Most of the people won't be. It's just that that can be balanced out since some of the most powerful people here are also the craziest.
no subject
Yeah? Like who?
no subject
[Yeah Once-ler! How dare you not know the problems and concerns someone you just met has. You should feel ashamed of yourself for your lack of precognition.]
Worst one I know is some guy called the Doctor. Which is confusing, since there's also a good guy in town named the Doctor. Anyone the evil Doctor is...a crazy scientist who can apparently shoot lightning and other crap.
There's also some guy named the Major that worries people, but all I've seen from him is that he seems to talk about war on the phone a lot.
no subject
Terrific. I know who I'm gonna invite over for coffee now.
no subject
[MOST HYPOCRITICAL STATEMENT EVER.]
Yeah. As long as you ignore him, it shouldn't be too bad. Never seen the guy do anything and most of the people here....
.....
They're decent people.
no subject
[at that next comment, he bites his lower lip and takes a look back at the house.]
No one I've met so far seems all that bad, but that doesn't surprise me. I think you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who really deserves this to happen to them.
[he's the exception to that rule.]
no subject
[Guess who else is an exception. This kid right here.]
Most cases, you should be alright. But every once a month or every other month the town just goes crazy. And it always happens on holidays tood.
no subject
Holidays, got it. How crazy are we talking about here?
no subject
They can go from mild to terrible. Like we're talking a range of "oh hey your skin is polka dotted hahaha" to "send out these creatures to burn every house down in town and kill everyone" to "desolate wasteland run by cannibals".
no subject
[and excuse him, sir, but that last bit is really too much for him. his eyes are getting progressively wider by the second.]
...Cannibals. Like... REAL cannibals? [you know, as opposed to fake ones.]
no subject
[He opens his mouth, planning to just be as snide as he can to the Once-ler. To give the most smart ass remark he can imagine. And then shuts it.
Last November is still pretty sobering to him.]
Yeah. Real ones. That killed and ate people. If it's alright I really don't want to talk about that much more.
no subject
[he nods quickly.] No problem.
[looks like it's time for a subject change.]
Hey. What's your name?
no subject
...You're never going to get used to it.
Pokey. Pokey Minch. What about you?
no subject
Once-ler, and I think we're going to have a real problem on our if you get your hands on any sticks. Just sayin'.
no subject
[Because as condescending as that could sound, he does mean it. It's what actually happened to him here.]
Me with a stick is the least of your worries.
no subject
Alright, anything pointy and/or sharp, metallic or squishy. I wouldn't put anything past kids like you these days.
no subject
Mister, if I really wanted to run you down I wouldn't just hit you with things.