lieutenantantichrist | [17] [Text/Action for Mahogany] - "Whenever You Get Involved, Someone Gets Hurt."

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[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.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

I think you've mixed up yer stories. There's supposed t'be a pumpkin somewhere, an' a pair of magic shoes. Whoever told ya that one did a rotten job of it.

Edited 2014-06-23 13:58 (UTC)

There was once a wealthy merchant and his wife. They had one son, named Ivan. The merchant had a bird stuck in a tiny cage and he said: "If only I knew what the bird sung I would give half my fortune to the man who could tell me."

Ivan heard those words. He wanted to learn the language of the birds.

One day, Ivan was walking through a forest when a storm hit. He noticed in the branches four small birds in a nest, and he took off his coat and used it to protect the nest from the storm. Once it had passed, a bird flew to him thanked him for protecting her nest. "You protected my children from the rain and I wish to help you. Tell me what it is you wish," she said.

"Teach me the language of the birds," Ivan asked of her.

The bird told him to stay with her for three days and he did. When he returned home, he knew the language of the birds.

One day after he returned home, the bird his father owned began to sing. It was a sad song, and both his parents were moved. Ivan, who could now understand the song, began to weep.

"Why do you cry?" his parents asked him.

"It's because what the bird sings," Ivan said. "One day, Ivan the merchant's son will become Ivan the king's son and his own father will be his servant."

His parents began to distrust him, so one day they pushed him out to sea when he was asleep. He was rescued by a ship and because of his knowledge of the language of the birds, helped the sailors survive. When the ship docked into a town, Ivan learned of three crows that would not leave their perches near where a king lived. Ivan spoke with the birds and learned what it was they wanted.

He told the king that the birds sought an audience with him and wanted to ask of him whether the son bird should follow his mother or his father. The king told him that a son must always follow his father. After that, the birds left and the king gave half his kingdom and his youngest daughter to Ivan as a wife.

Ivan, now a rich and happy king, met his father. A disheveled old man who had lost everything, including his wife, because he doubted the words of the bird all of those years ago. But Ivan, being his son, still welcomed him back.

Edited 2014-06-23 14:36 (UTC)

[As worn as he's starting to feel, with the excitement of the day waning, Hiccup can't bring himself to fall asleep. Emolga curled on his stomach, he shuffles through what few network entries had shown up since the sun had gone down. The pink of the text hurts a little, but it's nothing a little squinting can't fix.

...Well. Can't ignore a request like that, can he?

Hiccup keeps his voice soft, even if there's only one creature around him that'd he'd end up disturbing. It seemed appropriate, given the hour, at the very least.]

I know a lot of stories, but I don't know if I could pick a favorite. What kind of story would you like to hear?

...Your story starts somewhat like Cinderella, but the end is different. Guess it's one of those things that changed over the centuries.

[It's also not a color he ever expected to see from that particular Gear number, but he'll keep that quiet.]

I'd tell you a story in return, but I can only think of the bad ones today.

Favorite story, huh...? Most of what I got are pretty miserable ones.

That story was kinda lame.

_{[There's one thing Heather knows for sure when she looks at this message-- it definitely was not written by Blake. But it's coming from his 'Gear.]

[It's a little alarming.]

[More than a little, actually.]

[She starts to type, but there's that request for voice...]}

Hey.

Which Pokemon is this?

_{[She tries to keep her tone light and inquisitive, because sounding freaked out probably isn't going to be any comfort at all.}

Edited 2014-06-23 19:50 (UTC)

[Hmm... interesting story. A few things don't add up, like her getting back with her parents if they'd already died, but he won't question it. Sounds like whoever posted the story is feeling pretty down. Why make the matter worse?

So, Riku hesitates, shutting his eyes, breathing softly. Stories, hmm... Well, there's one that's always stuck with him. Why not start there?

So when he opens his eyes, he regards the camera with a calm expression, speaking with a level tone.]

Once upon a time, there was this tiny world. A small island, surrounded by water. Almost like a prison. The people on the island were happy. They went about their days without a care in the world, all except one boy. To him, the world was just too small. He wanted to find a way off the islands and explore the outside world.

And then, one day, he did it. He got off the islands and never turned back. Nobody knows what happened to him since, but that one boy became a legend.

[At least, a legend in Riku's eyes.]

Wow, I've never heard that story before. [ And she's pretty sure whoever came up with it had no idea what they were on about, but that's okay.

Roxy would have liked to respond to the pink text in her own, but a'right, video it is. ]

Once upon a time, there was a wicked, dastardly witch. Like a total bitch. She wanted to conquer the whole world, destroy it and repopulate it with her own kind. She used baked goods and mind control. But there were brave heroes standing in her way! A gorgeous seer, author of a best-selling book series about wizards and suspected of wytchkkrafts and an industrious knight who made several films-- they were unafraid of using the media to sass the witch!

The seer took down the witch's right hand, an evil man! She stabbed him in the eyes with her knitting needles [ MIMING SUCH AN ACT ENTHUSIASTICALLY roxy no roxy stop ] and rode his body to the bottom of the bloody waterfall. Meanwhile, the knight defeated the two nasty figureheads the witch had placed in office in the most powerful country, the mirthful executives. They seemingly disappeared forever, but they actually confronted the witch!

... and then they died. [ Roxy's face falls. W o w she really should have thought this story through. Awkward pause MAYBE SHE CAN SALVAGE IT... ]

But then! Like four hundred or whatever years later, their descendants were born. The seer's daughter, a super hot rogue; and the knight's brother, a handsome prince! Together, with their friends, a beautiful maid and a rugged page, they set out to defeat the witch and her even worser boss, the lord!

[ aaaand now the story doesn't have an ending whoops is it too late for a do-over this story is awful ]

And, uh, they did! With super awesome explosions and magic and stuff! Happily ever after, the end.

[ nailed it ]

[The video comes up on a Snubbull at the corner of the gym, a Musharna floating beside her. There's the sound of rhythmic thumps a ways away.

The little pink dog snub snubs, vapor rises from the Musharna, and a moment later a text translation arrives.]

I forgot! There was a pumpkin. The knight bought it from a fairy arms dealer who turned it into a gun, but he had to use it by midnight or it would turn back and then it wouldn't fit up his sleeve anymore.

There might have been shoes. I don't remember.

[She looks over her shoulder, at the sound of the thumps. Her ears lower.]

I don't want to ask.

[Steve listens closely, her ears rising as the young man's voice continues through the tale.

At the end, she snubs softly, and text appears.]

That was a good story. Happy endings are the best kind.

Can birds tell the future? I've talked to a lot, and none have ever told the future for me. I should ask.

Things would be much easier if it was possible to talk to humans direct...but no matter how clearly you speak, they never understand.

Some parts I don't understand. But if the favor Ivan asked was to learn how to talk to birds, how did the bird talk to him to thank him to begin with? And if birds know the future, why did the crows want to ask a person for advice? And why shouldn't a son follow his mother?

[She's quiet for a moment, thoughtful. Then she lifts her paws and snubs quickly.]

Wait! I'm not insulting your story. It's a good story. Please don't go.

[The young man's voice is quiet and soothing. He sounds like a nice person. Steve comes closer to the screen.]

One with a happy ending.

[Steve knows she knows that voice...her brow furrows as she thinks about it hard.

The handsome gentleman who asked her to dance. Steve's ears perk up, and the translation of her snubs appears rapidly.]

Ash! Is that you?

[She calms down a little and nods at the screen.]

Bad ones are okay. Bad things happen too.

Tell me.

[She's silent for a moment. Then she snubs quietly a few more times, and more text appears.]

Your hair is pretty.

I like it. There's fighting and someone wins.

Tell me one of yours.

[He had been almost positive he hadn't actually been talking to the guy he'd spoken to before, but he still hadn't expected it to be a Pokemon. He'd been expecting... maybe a kid borrowing the the 'Gear instead. Still, Ocelot puts on his poker face because he had told the story.]

You know, those are good questions. I believe in the story, birds are supposed to be able to know the future. The story doesn't make it clear how Ivan can talk to the one bird, does it? I suppose that means that the bird spoken to him in Russian, not the bird language.

It's a folk tale so fantastic things are possible. There's another story, about a creature called Baba Yaga, that looks like an old woman with chicken legs. Are there legends about Pokemon here? Maybe that's the same sort of thing.

Because of how old the story is, there is a different culture around it. Birds ask the king for advice because the listener of the story should ask the king advice on important matters. Of course a son can follow his mother, too. It's just a story.

[Steve lifts her head. She thinks she recognizes the voice, but she isn't sure. In the background behind the Snubbull and Musharna, a pair of feet in sneakers are visible, near the brown paws of a Hitmonlee. They take steps back and forth in time with the rhythmic thumps of impact.

She snubs softly, and a moment later, a text will arrive.]

I'm Steve Buscemi.

He told me how to spell it a long time ago. He kept saying something about Donny and elements, too. I think that part was a joke.

Edited 2014-06-24 08:38 (UTC)

[Steve knows this nice boy. It calms her to hear his voice, and she listen closely to what he has to say. When he's done, she thinks for a while. Then speaks. The buttons on the Gear depress.]

If he was gone, how does everyone know that he was okay? He could have gone someplace worse.

[Her mouth, always downturned, tightens further. Her snubs become more rapid.]

Were his friends sad that he kept talking about leaving, like their home was an awful place? Didn't the people he left behind miss him?

[She's forgetting to keep her voice down.]

If it was like a prison...did he think they were there because they did something wrong?

[As Roxy's story continues, Steve leans nearer and nearer to the screen, becoming enthralled until she forgets to be scared. She exclaims now and then during the telling, and the Musharna dutifully transcribes.]

Oh! An evil witch! That's the worst kind of witch. I didn't know baked goods could control minds.

[She listens and watches raptly, especially to the stabbing.

...But, oh. Her face falls.] Oh no. Poor seer and knight.

[She brightens at the happy ending.]

Good for them! The heroes always win.

[Her ears draw down, just a little. She glances over her shoulder at the man striking pads with his fists, over and over.

She doesn't say anything. Text appears anyway.]

Don't they?

[Oh, it's a...Snubbull, that's right. He just caught one a few weeks ago. He doesn't know what the other one is, but he can figure out that the floating pink puff is the one typing out the message.

It's impressive what these Pokemon can get up to.]

Everything alright there?

[It takes some work to get the Musharna to focus on anything bfor long, but Steve's had good luck tonight. She snubbulls out a hesitant answer.]

It's okay.

[The steady thud, thud, thud continues.]

It's fine.

[A pause from the background noise. A few harsh breaths. Then it starts up again.

Steve pulls her legs up and wraps her stubby arms around them. She curls herself small, her little shoulders hunched.]

I don't know.

[...damn him and his soft spot for animals. Sniper sighs and sits himself down; this might take awhile.]

What sort of stories you like then? I'll see if I can remember any.

Yeah, it's me. Hey there.

[The number of potential Gear users on the other side has now drastically dropped, at least.]

Let's see, then. ...Once upon a time, there was a planet that had many people on it. Too many people. Its people were running out of space, and there was so much pollution that plants and animals were dying out.

So, they decided to send millions of people out to another planet nearby, to try and give their home a chance to heal.

Steve?

_{[Oh no, poor Steve. Something was OBVIOUSLY wrong.]}

Hey, Steve...

Is, uh... is everything okay?

Huh? Oh, uh...thanks? [He did make a point of taking care of it.]

Well, what kind of story are you lookin' for? I've got a bunch of different ones.

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[17] [Text/Action for Mahogany] - "Whenever You Get Involved, Someone Gets Hurt."

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