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isocelesmonster) wrote in
driftfleet2016-06-22 04:37 am
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Entry tags:
the devil in the details
Who: Bill Cipher
Broadcast: none
Action: Anywhere in the fleet
When: The night of the 22nd, and ongoing.
It'd take a careful eye to notice the only other change: the same sharp instrument has been used to carve little eyes of providence, no bigger than a fingernail, in strategic public places around the ship. They're shallow markings, not deep enough to interfere with any of the working parts of the craft, and no great works of art - each little scrap of graffiti is a matter of five lines at most. But they're there - and if sometimes the way the gold of the metal hull glints in the pupil is strangely canny, it's probably nothing to be worried about.
(It's not that Bill doesn't care about the flesh puppets that make up his new crew - oh, he does, they're all going to get very careful scrutiny over the coming days - but more important is finding out what his new playground looks like.)
When the fleet sleeps, their minds open and blossom like night-blooming flowers, each one illuminating a new section of the shared dreaming plane. For all of their poetry, few humans realize that the state of dreaming is as real an exploration as whatever meaningless actions they take while awake. It's irrelevant to their survival, most days, so evolution has never sought to provide that particular revelation. They're a young species. Five senses, auditory languages, limited psychic potential, and as far as they know when they dream they're just watching random electrical impulses fire in their brains. Ha!
(There's an expression about a one-eyed man's status in a land of the blind, and Bill intends to make it a reality.)
He steps sideways out of the material world into the closest dream as easily as a three-dimensional being can move along any of their limited axes. He makes himself invisible, at first, just to get his bearings.
[Bill is visiting dreams, as a way of saying hello! His permissions post for this ability is here. I am treating this ability on an opt-in basis. If you didn't give me the okay, he won't be spying on your character at all tonight ~but where's the fun in that~?]
ZOGSLFTS GSRH DVZP ZMW RWOV GSVNV
Broadcast: none
Action: Anywhere in the fleet
When: The night of the 22nd, and ongoing.
Although ostensibly the Golden has a new crew member, there's no new person in attendance at any meals. No new faces in the hall, nothing additional in the laundry. One of the standard crew cabins has been sealed up as tight as a tomb, the brass nameplate on the door unhelpfully scratched out with something sharp. No noises at all come from inside.
It'd take a careful eye to notice the only other change: the same sharp instrument has been used to carve little eyes of providence, no bigger than a fingernail, in strategic public places around the ship. They're shallow markings, not deep enough to interfere with any of the working parts of the craft, and no great works of art - each little scrap of graffiti is a matter of five lines at most. But they're there - and if sometimes the way the gold of the metal hull glints in the pupil is strangely canny, it's probably nothing to be worried about.
(It's not that Bill doesn't care about the flesh puppets that make up his new crew - oh, he does, they're all going to get very careful scrutiny over the coming days - but more important is finding out what his new playground looks like.)
When the fleet sleeps, their minds open and blossom like night-blooming flowers, each one illuminating a new section of the shared dreaming plane. For all of their poetry, few humans realize that the state of dreaming is as real an exploration as whatever meaningless actions they take while awake. It's irrelevant to their survival, most days, so evolution has never sought to provide that particular revelation. They're a young species. Five senses, auditory languages, limited psychic potential, and as far as they know when they dream they're just watching random electrical impulses fire in their brains. Ha!
(There's an expression about a one-eyed man's status in a land of the blind, and Bill intends to make it a reality.)
He steps sideways out of the material world into the closest dream as easily as a three-dimensional being can move along any of their limited axes. He makes himself invisible, at first, just to get his bearings.
[Bill is visiting dreams, as a way of saying hello! His permissions post for this ability is here. I am treating this ability on an opt-in basis. If you didn't give me the okay, he won't be spying on your character at all tonight ~but where's the fun in that~?]
ZOGSLFTS GSRH DVZP ZMW RWOV GSVNV
RH ML NLIV BRVOWRMT YFG Z WIVZN
DSVM NLIMRMT GZPVH BLF UILN NB GSIZOO
YV TOZW R OVG BLF DZPV ZG ZOO
no subject
Instead there's a man standing in the corridor, not looking pleased. ]
You should not be here.
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WHOA!
[He visibly composes his borrowed form - squares his shoulders, straightens his little tie.]
I'VE GOT NOWHERE ELSE TO BE, WISE GUY.
[Bill sounds tired but defensive. He nods his head towards the most recent memory he'd viewed - "don't go into my mind." "it's nothing personal (you just scare me)"
So, here it comes: his big roll of the dice. Either this will work or he'll make one hell of an enemy.]
IT'S NOT THAT EASY, IS IT? YA CAN'T TURN OFF WHO YOU ARE.
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. . . No. I suppose you can't.
Who are you?
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[He traces a showy bow, left arm folded under and right popped out from his body at an angle.]
GO AHEAD, ASK ME ANYTHING!
[Bill glances up, after a moment, to add a more casual aside.]
I LIKE THAT YOU'VE GOT ALL OF THESE NEW WORDS, BY THE WAY. INTRODUCING MYSELF AS A "MIND SPIRIT" GOT ME EXORCISED A LOT! WHICH DIDN'T DO ME IN, BUT DIDN'T EXACTLY MAKE ME FEEL APPRECIATED EITHER!
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[ He shrugs loosely. ]
What exactly does an astral oracle do?
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HOW MANY REAL GENIUSES D'YOU THINK THE HUMAN RACE PRODUCES IN A THOUSAND YEARS? YOUR SOCRATES, YOUR NEWTON - THE ONES WITH BIG IDEAS!
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4th of july weekend kickin my ass sorry
[Bill's grinning again, and his gestures are becoming increasingly elaborate.]
EITHER WAY, MY RESULTS SPEAK FOR THEMSELVES! YOU GUYS WENT TO THE MOON! WAS THAT COOL OR WHAT?
no worries!
[ Something about this seems . . . off. ] So you're saying you're a Faustian creature. You make deals.
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[Bill looks a little cross. At some point he's drawn up both of his legs to sit floating in mid-air.]
THAT'S PRETTY CLOSE! YOU KNOW, PEOPLE ALWAYS FORGET THAT MEPHISTOPHELES GETS THE SHORT END OF THE STICK IN THAT STORY! HE WAITS ON THAT GUY FOR YEARS! A BUTLER AND A BEST FRIEND ALL IN ONE PACKAGE! THEN THE HUMAN WHO SUMMONED HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE RUNS OUT AND LEAVES HIM THE CHECK! FAUST GOES TO HEAVEN! IT'S NOT EVEN A GOOD CAUTIONARY TALE, IT'S BASICALLY JUST BRAGGING!
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[ That much he's sure of. Charles' universe is bereft of magic and he's quite happy about that. ]
Details have been known to get lost in translation.
no subject
[Bill winks.]
AS TO WHETHER OR NOT I'M A DEMON, WELL, THE ACCUSATION'S COME UP. BUT I LIKE MY HUMANS! NO POINT IN TYING YOURSELF TO SOMEONE'S MIND IF YOU CAN'T STAND THEM! IT'S MORE MY STYLE TO MAKE CONTRACTS THAT'LL BENEFIT BOTH OF US AT THE END!
no subject
[ His lips curve into a wintry smile. ] Thank you, but no thank you. I've done enough deals to know I rather get by under my own power. Which I have a lot of.
no subject
[Bill's smile gets a little strained, himself. He puts his feet on the ground to use them to scuttle backwards, hands up defensively.]
I CAME HERE BECAUSE OF THAT!
[He's speaking very, very quickly, his eyes darting back and forth when they're not on Charles himself.]
THIS FLEET IS YOUR TERRITORY, THERE'S NO WAY YOU WOULDN'T HAVE FOUND ME NO MATTER WHERE I DECIDED TO HIDE! YOU'RE ABOUT A HUNDRED FEET TALL ON THIS PLANE, BUDDY - I'M NOWHERE NEAR STUPID ENOUGH TO WANT TO BE YOUR ENEMY! YOU DON'T NEED TO TRUST ME, JUST LET ME BE MORE USEFUL ALIVE THAN DEAD!
no subject
I -- What? What do you need me for?
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I won't hurt you provided you don't do anything to sleeping people's minds.
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[He fidgets with the spot under his ear, where he can feel the implant in this form. It's sitting there, jarring and inert. It's like sitting on a cushion with a bad spring.]
USUALLY WHEN NOBODY'S ASLEEP I CAN JUST JUMP BACK TO MY REALM! BUT EITHER IT DOESN'T EXIST ANY MORE OR THE ATROMA'S DECIDED TO CUT ME OFF.
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[He's not offended, or even bragging: just explaining the facts. He looks down. Oh right, he's still a fleshy human larva.]
WELL, NOT THIS...
[Big eyeroll. Like he'd have a torso and organs. Please, Chuck, what do you take him for?]
no subject
So you exist only on the mental plane?
no subject
[He's. He's not real happy about it.]
IF YOU WANT THE LONGER ONE...
[He shrugs, and suddenly looks pretty tired.]
I DON'T KNOW, WANT TO DO IT OVER A GAME OF CHESS OR SOMETHING? I'M A LOT BETTER AT STORIES WHEN I DON'T FEEL LIKE I'M BEING HELD AT GUNPOINT!
no subject
All right.
[ The scene changes to Charles' study. There's a chess set sitting on the table. Sunlight streams through the window, casting shadows across the board. ]
no subject
APPRECIATE IT, PAL.
[He floats into place on the white end of the board.]
NICE PLACE YOU HAVE, HERE, BY THE WAY! IS THAT OAK PANELING?
[I'm not stalling, you're stalling.]
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IT's in the mind. You know how rich in detail it can be.
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er wait he didn't do anything to the windows
I know, he's just making it brighter
ah my bad <3
no worries!
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