Lt. Carter Blake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lieutenantantichrist) wrote2014-06-23 05:22 am
lieutenantantichrist) wrote2014-06-23 05:22 am
[17] [Text/Action for Mahogany] - "Whenever You Get Involved, Someone Gets Hurt."
[ACTION]
[In a low-rent corner of Mahogany, there's a real gym. No mazes, no boss trying to fight you in exchange for something they call a badge, no lackeys, just weight machines and a floor covered with rubber mats, the way it should be. Open twenty-four hours, and this late there's no human in this room but Blake. He's in a sweatsuit, gray in contrast to the brown of the Hitmonlee holding pads for him in its upraised paws. The only sound is his harsh breaths and the thump of his fists on the canvas. His shoulders are hunched like a boxer's. His eyes look straight ahead. Judging from the sweat darkening the back of his shirt, he's been here a while.
On the other side of the room, a Snubbull is sitting on the floor, looking at a Gear that's resting on the mats. A Musharna floats beside her. Fifteen minutes of frustration proved that claws are no good for texting with, but she wants to talk to someone. She really wants to.
She snubs softly, so as not to make her trainer angry. The Musharna's eyes show no reaction, but the buttons on the Gear depress. The text that Steve watches appear seems to be accurate, more or less. The transcription might come strange through the dreaming creature. It's close enough for what she needs.]
[TEXT]
Hello lo low hello
Please talk to me.
I want to talk.
I will tell you my favorite story.
He told it to me when I couldn't sleep. His eyes were closed for some of it but I shook his knee and got to hear the end. Without the end it isn't a story.
Once
upon a time there was a girl. She was poor and alone because her parents were dead, and child services didn't exist then, so she had to go to live with her wicked stepmother and do work for her. Hard work, the kind that nearly killed her, but in time she got used to it.
Then one day she heard the prince was giving a big ball. She asked to go, but her stepmother wouldn't let her. So she tried to run off and get a ride to the castle from a knight, but her wicked stepmother had tailled her, and she found her and dragged her off the horse. While she was going, the wicked stepmother threw the knight a gold coin. He held onto it, and he kept looking at it all the time. He kept thinking about the girl.
He wanted to help her, but he couldn't.
The knight went to the ball, and he was going to kill the prince, but there were too many guards around watching him, so he ran away.
Then the knight went to find the girl and save her. The wicked stepmother grazed him in the neck with an evil spell, but he killed her and all the other guys too, even though he got hurt bad. At first the girl was scared, but then she was free and she was okay. She got to go back home to her real parents. The knight was a hero. All the papers said so.
And everyone lived happily ever after.
..........
..........
..........
Tell me your favorite story.
Voice or video if you can.
The words alone are lonely.
Tell me please.
[In a low-rent corner of Mahogany, there's a real gym. No mazes, no boss trying to fight you in exchange for something they call a badge, no lackeys, just weight machines and a floor covered with rubber mats, the way it should be. Open twenty-four hours, and this late there's no human in this room but Blake. He's in a sweatsuit, gray in contrast to the brown of the Hitmonlee holding pads for him in its upraised paws. The only sound is his harsh breaths and the thump of his fists on the canvas. His shoulders are hunched like a boxer's. His eyes look straight ahead. Judging from the sweat darkening the back of his shirt, he's been here a while.
On the other side of the room, a Snubbull is sitting on the floor, looking at a Gear that's resting on the mats. A Musharna floats beside her. Fifteen minutes of frustration proved that claws are no good for texting with, but she wants to talk to someone. She really wants to.
She snubs softly, so as not to make her trainer angry. The Musharna's eyes show no reaction, but the buttons on the Gear depress. The text that Steve watches appear seems to be accurate, more or less. The transcription might come strange through the dreaming creature. It's close enough for what she needs.]
[TEXT]
Hello lo low hello
Please talk to me.
I want to talk.
I will tell you my favorite story.
He told it to me when I couldn't sleep. His eyes were closed for some of it but I shook his knee and got to hear the end. Without the end it isn't a story.
Once
upon a time there was a girl. She was poor and alone because her parents were dead, and child services didn't exist then, so she had to go to live with her wicked stepmother and do work for her. Hard work, the kind that nearly killed her, but in time she got used to it.
Then one day she heard the prince was giving a big ball. She asked to go, but her stepmother wouldn't let her. So she tried to run off and get a ride to the castle from a knight, but her wicked stepmother had tailled her, and she found her and dragged her off the horse. While she was going, the wicked stepmother threw the knight a gold coin. He held onto it, and he kept looking at it all the time. He kept thinking about the girl.
He wanted to help her, but he couldn't.
The knight went to the ball, and he was going to kill the prince, but there were too many guards around watching him, so he ran away.
Then the knight went to find the girl and save her. The wicked stepmother grazed him in the neck with an evil spell, but he killed her and all the other guys too, even though he got hurt bad. At first the girl was scared, but then she was free and she was okay. She got to go back home to her real parents. The knight was a hero. All the papers said so.
And everyone lived happily ever after.
..........
..........
..........
Tell me your favorite story.
Voice or video if you can.
The words alone are lonely.
Tell me please.
no subject
[Yusuke looks troubled. He'd been pleasantly surprised by how honestly Blake answered him (he'd expected the old man to at least get mad at being told that he's feeling sorry for himself, because honestly, that's the sort of thing that would piss Yusuke off), but now that he knows there's a kid involved...
... yeah. It would be an understatement to say that it isn't settling well with him.
That said, he told Blake he wouldn't ask. And whatever it was that happened, the important thing to him right now is that Blake's owning up to it and he's planning on doing something about it. That doesn't make this any less of a hard pill to swallow, but it's at least enough to keep him from feeling angry with him.]
... And y'know, hey. If it doesn't work out, at least you can say you gave enough of a shit to try. Doesn't mean you can't still do better in the future, either. The thing that you did -
[He spreads his hands.]
- whatever it is -
[He doesn't want to know.]
- might not be somethin' you can make right, but at least you can make sure it doesn't happen again. Or try to, anyway.
no subject
[His eyes fall. His fingers tap slowly on the padded floor.]
Wouldn't want to, either.
[Funny how the kid's not chewing him out, or trying to make him spill the details. Saying you have a dark secret you don't wanna talk about is the best way in the damn world to make somebody curious, and you'd figure this would be the last guy in the world to leave well enough alone.]
Hey. Yusuke.
[He makes a decent attempt at getting the name right.]
You're not as much of a pain in the ass as you look.
no subject
Well, damn. Blake's been acting weird all night, but still, that doesn't mean Yusuke had expected to hear that from him anytime soon. He doesn't know what he's more taken aback by, honestly: the fact that the old man actually bothered trying to pronounce his name properly, or the fact that he actually sort of complimented him. Either way, the surprise on Yusuke's face doesn't stay there for long; eventually, he ducks his head and chuckles a little, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips.]
Pffff. Thanks, old man.
[He lifts his gaze again. His expression is cheeky.]
I'll remember you said that the next time you give me crap about something.
[And then rub it in your face, is what he doesn't say. He probably doesn't have to, either.]