mayfield_rpg | (no subject)

[phone]
Oh, marvelous, it's August again. My favorite time of the year.

Students, I hope you've been working on your summer assignments. Adult men, I hope you're prepared to be perfect gentlemen when we all find ourselves floundering in that ghastly hotel. Anything else to expect this month? No? On to business, then.

I'm sure we're all very distracted by talking pony parties and pool parties and platter parties and inpourings of perpetually perplexed new populations, but has anyone made any effort whatsoever to sort out that business from last month or are we still playing the game where we ignore all interesting information in favor of smashing random objects we find in the dairy? I don't mind that game; of course, quite invigorating, good for the vasculature, but it might be worth trying a different approach at some point in time. I venture to suggest today, if no one's too busy holding competitions to see who looks the most absurd absent their clothing.

[action, 726 Anderson Lane]
[Susan can be found hanging up black cloaks and other assorted clothing in uniform crepuscular shades around the house where garish green was all there was formerly to see. A welcome change, in her opinion; she'd missed her wardrobe from home, even if everything looked exactly the same as the black cloak she had commissioned here in Mayfield.

Still, she pauses for a moment as she handles an emerald-green cloak, never worn, hanging in the hall closet since the previous Christmas. ...It goes back on the rack after a bit. And she'll only push it back behind the others an inch or two.]

[action, park]
[A rather unusual sight in the park later on that week. Somehow, Miss Susan the English teacher has been cajoled into reading a nice story for a small group of drones.]

And so, adding conspiracy and first-degree murder to their trespass and property damage charges, Hansel and Gretel pushed the old woman into the oven and ignored her anguished screams as they left the house of gingerbread, naturally taking all of her valuables with them as they went. With these illicit goods, they reunited with their criminally negligent father, but not, surprisingly, their 'wicked' stepmother, who had mysteriously vanished in the space of the two nights in which the children were gone, leaving the father sole keeper of his property and remaining funds and raising suspicion as to who it was had devised the plan to leave the children in the forest in the first place.

But it doesn't matter, because they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

[The drones seem quite pleased with her recitation, at any rate.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Teatime? Who's that?

Someone I'm quite glad you don't know and feel no need whatsoever to inform you about to spare you a great deal of nastiness.

Eh? But what if he comes back? How would I know who to look for?

[Not that Luke's all that concerned about someone named Teatime coming back. He's really just that nosy.]

If he comes back, I'll tell you.

If you're really so keen on having nightmares, you can go pester your brother.

Why can't you tell me? I can handle it!

[He's seen two people gruesomely murdered in his backyard once. He's pretty sure he can handle whatever this Teatime guy does.]

Because vulgar curiosity is a trait you would be much better off growing out of. And because he's dangerous, even if he is dead.

He's dead?

He was my enemy from back on the Disc.

[Susan responds mildly. Luke will probably notice that this is not an answer to his question at all. He may or may not have the presence of mind to work out the logical progression that Susan is implying that being her enemy is a state generally equivalent with being dead, likely at her own hand.]

[It doesn't take him long to put the pieces together. Luke may be oblivious in some ways, but he can pick up on stuff like this. Still, even learning this information he doesn't act shocked or disgusted.]

You killed him?

Not quite. I dispatched a monster. Bogeymen and sidewalk crack bears aren't the only things a governess has to protect her children from.

[Luke listens and nods, feeling like he's learning a little more about Susan then he did.]

So you had to get rid of the monster. Because he was hurting people.

In this case, hurting the fabric of reality.

...How in the world could he do something like that?

I come from a world where Death is a walking, talking, tangible being. Use your imagination.

[Luke rubs his head, sitting down after preparing his bowl of ice cream.]

...Right, um, let's just forget about that part.

Better we all did.

[Susan returns her attention to general kitchen organization as Luke eats.]