driftfleet | [Video] [From the Marivisa] [Public to the Fleet]

[The first angle you see of the phone screen is, strangely enough, looking up at one of the ceilings of the Marivisa. Out of the corner of the screen, you can the edge of a shelf, or perhaps a desk. Slowly peering over the edge, you can see a small, Baroque style clock.

Which has eyes. And a mouth. And it's two hands twitch on the side of his small mechanical face like whiskers. You cannot believe you can make this out, but yes, it does in fact look like the clock is scowling downwards.

Then sighing. Rather dramatically, at that. Then the clock disappears. There is the sound of wood scuffling across metal, then a 'Careful Cogsworth, careful waaaugh!', and the sound of a crash as something wooden slips off of something plastic and then down to something hard. Like the metal floor.

After a moment, the phone is tilted back up into the clock's face, and it growls at all of you in an impossibly posh British accent.]

I don't know where I am. I don't know where this is. I don't know what is happening. But whatever It is? It is somehow Lumiere's fault!

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Likewise. I can think of many better options for that among my peers. One Francis Bonnefoy, for one. It'd give me the double service of keeping him out of my hair as well.

[Nods his head.]

The very ones. I'm aboard the Huntress. They make for wonderful company.

Well if I ever see him -- I will discourage him highly in the Other Direction.

[Faint sniff. That fellow even sounded like trouble.]

I have only met the one - but he's a delightful fellow.

Please do. I prefer to keep a channel between his person and mine. At least while I'm here, he can't keep inviting himself into my rooms to pester me.

[Git all but named himself Frenchie McFrenchman. That says trouble all on itself.]

Which of them was it, if you got a name? I think I've met nearly all of them, at least in passing. They do make me think of home.

Well we can't have that, that's absolutely rude. Such poor manners in someone who is your friend!

[Huff. All the huffing.]

I met the one named Maedhros.

Friend? Please. I may have dealt with him since we were both lads, but that hardly means I like him.

[Denial! Horrible denial.]

Now there's an agreeable fellow.

Well he certainly doesn't sound like a friend at all anyways.

[A Pause.]

Yes he is! So delightful.

Precisely.

The lot of them are, really. Different from the sort that live around my brother's house. Though that could simply be their liking him better and him not liking me.

Why don't they like you? That seems rather ...arbitrary. Being judged on whether or not your brother likes you.

Now that is a bit complicated. For starters, both my brother and those particular elves are Scottish. And I doubt I have to tell you what centuries of war have done for that relationship.

I See. Yes. That would be more complex than any other relationship.

I have three brothers. None of them are English. 'Complex' would be the perfect word for it, yes.

Uh.

I.

How??

Well, one is Welsh, one is Scottish, and the other Irish. He has another brother, but we aren't related.

Mum didn't really explain how that one worked, but that was Britannia for you.

Three, ah, three different ... fathers?

[That was the only way Cogsworth could conceive it.]

No fathers, actually.

[No matter resemblances to certain Germans.]

Despite appearances, you're more human than I am, Cogsworth.

No fathers whatsoever...?

[Now Cogsworth really looked confused, before his eyes widened.]

Are you Gods?

Wha-

[Blinks before deciding that yes, he did hear what he thought he did.]

Oh heavens no. Though I think my job would have been easier if I were.

You remember what I said my name was?

Well I suppose all of our jobs would be - ah.

Arthur Kirkland, or England, if I prefer. Which is baffling but not unusual.

It's literal too.

My brothers and I make up the kingdom. Our mother was Britannia herself.

.... are you saying that you are the literal children of Our Mother Brittannia?

[Cogsworth squints at him.]

Funny you don't really look like a lunatic ...

She started my lessons in magic, regularly wandered about with a bear, and enjoyed nothing more than the chance to punch Rome in the face when given the chance.

And no offence, my good sir, but you are currently a talking mantle clock.

Stranger things have happened.

[Video] [From the Marivisa] [Public to the Fleet]

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