attempt 002

[unconfines]

Who: Anders and you???
Broadcast: fleetwide video
Action: SS Golden, if that's your jam
When: no time like NOW

[Anders is very close to the camera when it switches on, nearly raising the illusion of being nose-to-nose with it.]

Evening! I've got an important question for everyone, if you'll do me the favor. Just a moment. [He goes on talking, peppy and conversational, but he isn't precisely looking at the camera as he does. He's rummaging through something slightly left and below, head tilted down and expression partially obscured by the way some of his hair slips out of its tie.] Got lucky with this place, didn't we? [beat] Well, sort of. Makes one wonder why we don't stop places like this all the time, instead of frozen-wasteland-here and merciless-jungle-madness-there.

[That's the thing with Anders having an audience: once he starts, good luck getting him to stop.]

Though what happens when we're all drifted out, I wonder? End of the line, so to speak, even if this one isn't so much a line as it is a drunken wobble through the void. I know, I know, vast emptiness of space and all that, but it's got to end somewhere. We've all places to be, yes? Even if those places are just, you know, not quite so cramped as here. And no one actually likes a story with no ending, even Atroma's got to know that.

[Something white and furry hits him repeatedly in the face while he talks; people who have spent more than ten minutes with him might recognize it as his cat's tail. He's remarkably good at ignoring it, though whether that's because of exposure or fortitude is hard to say. Maybe a little of both.]

Anyway. No reason to keep you in suspense! My important question: purple or blue?

[He sits up, having apparently now located what he was looking for, and waves bundles of fabric that may or may not be shirts of some kind at the camera. They're complete with the bright, glowing strips of color characteristic of the fashion sense of this place in, you guessed it: purple and blue.]

Comments

[bryces_pup]

Oh that's right, others can listen in on this can't they? So much for privacy.

[The mention of the Circle elicits a slightly raised brow.]

No, I suspect they don't. Though depending on what's in fashion at the time, they might be better off.

[unconfines]

Sure, depending on your opinion of potato sack chic. I'll take this over that if just because it itches less.

[And, you know, freedom.]

[bryces_pup]

Oh, but they were such colorful potato sacks. The ones I saw, anyway.

[unconfines]

Depends on your definitions of "colors," I suppose. Because, honestly, does puke green really count? [a beat, then imploring:] Really?

[bryces_pup]

Technically it IS a color. It's on the spectrum of oppressive hues, right along with piss yellow and shit brown.

[unconfines]

[He snaps his fingers.]

Do you know, that explains so much about my life.

[bryces_pup]

That's me: shedding light on matters to make them even more depressing.

[unconfines]

You may want to find a new day job. Just a suggestion!

[bryces_pup]

[Oh, Anders. You don't even know the half of it.]

But I'm so good at what I do. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I stopped now.

[unconfines]

You could try knitting! Or, I don't know, reciting dirty limericks in the corners of equally-as-dirty taverns. Anything at all, really. The world is your more-depressing-than-average oyster, so on and so forth.

[bryces_pup]

The knitting is a possibility. But I've never had a knack for poetry. Made me for a terrible lady and all, but it's the truth. Wrote a poem once and my tutor walked out of the room laughing.

[unconfines]

Ah, but perhaps you haven't found the right genre of poetry, hm? The sort of thing you'd hear in a tavern would make you a terrible lady, too— and that's the best part! Perhaps it's perfect for you and you simply don't know it.

[bryces_pup]

[She cocks an eyebrow.]

Are you saying I should risk ruining my reputation as a well-bred noble lady to try my hand at raunchy poetry dared only spoken in taverns?

[She... almost looks serious, save for the smile threatening to break out.]

[unconfines]

[Anders is, as always, anything but serious. He waves one hand, dismissive.]

Perish the thought! [a beat, for effect] I'm saying you should definitely ruin your reputation as a noble lady by becoming a master of raunchy poetry.

[bryces_pup]

[Points for unapologetically owning up to it, Anders. He's earned a good laugh from her.]

I wonder what it says about me that I'm not dramatically offended by your suggestion? [Oh wait.] I suppose a year traveling with an assortment of some of Thedas's raunchiest and or most outlandish people beat that out of me.

[unconfines]

[He grins, and points at the camera. Always the sign of a job well done.]

You should buy them all a round to thank them, then. Preferably at the tavern where you recite your poetry! You're much more fun without the noble sensibilities.

[bryces_pup]

Ha. And how do you know what I'm like with my noble sensibilities? I've scaled them back quite a bit, I'll have you know.

[unconfines]

I'm just saying. Better to be safe than sorry, yes?

[bryces_pup]

Perhaps. I suppose most nobles aren't known for their fun-loving personalities. That isn't to say we're all sticks in the mud, you know.