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

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[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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[Well, as if the fact that the new arrival was a living piece of decor wasn't proof enough, and the rather pun-like muttered name, there was that other name. At least this one's English.]

Well, Hello.

I'm afraid you've been kidnapped. Our 'hosts' make it a bit of a habit.

[Oh look, it's the Fun Police. Lumière is absolutely not about to admit he's actually happy to see Cogsworth here, and he's definitely not going to admit he actually missed him. Not yet, anyway.
They have a tradition to uphold.

Plus, he's being rude.]

Did you not know of my secret ability to kidnap people into space? I am sure I told you that one, once. You were very impressed, if I remember. You might have even clapped a little.

[YOU WANNA GO???!! ]

I've been WHaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAT? [You hear that unholy squawk, Arthur? That came from a clock. How did it come from a clock? We don't even know the answer to that one.]

[Cogsworth is now pacing back and forth, talking a mile an anxious minute.] I can't be kidnapped! I have to get back to the castle! What if Master is missing me? What if Belle is missing me? The place will fall to ruins and chaos without me RUINS AND CHAOS!

[He stomps, yes stomps on his stubby little wooden legs back over to the phone.] I DEMAND to speak to these hosts!

[As all good traditions, it is one that was being upheld for one reason, and one reason alone. Cogsworth knew the moment he threw down, if Lumiere was around? He would throw down as well.

Relief to see the candlestick man is swiftly carried away by Aggravation.

OH LET'S GO.]

First of all, the only thing I would EVER CLAP for would be you DOING YOUR JOB for once, instead of FLOUNCING ABOUT in space! I should have KNOWN you'd up here, on a spaceship, slacking off when WE HAVE WORK TO DO! Or need I remind you that we have a castle to save, a Master to marry off and LIVES OF NORMALITY to return to!?

[Huff. Huff.]

Besides ... I bet you didn't even know what space WAS until you woke up here, unless it was the space between your EARS!

Edited 2017-05-30 00:12 (UTC)

[Well if a candlestick can talk, he supposes a clock squawking must be possible too. Especially when there's magic involved.]

Unfortunately, they're not in the habit of talking to us. It's rather rude of them, really.

But I'm sure if you've set everything up properly, your fellows will be able to keep the household running well for a bit.

[At least he's trying to calm him down?]

['Scuse?!!!! ]

Ah, but I flounce with style, Cogsworth, that is what makes all the difference. Unfortunately, you were not blessed with style, so I cannot even describe what that is like for you. So sad. So tragic.

[He'd play a tiny violin for you, if he had hands. And the ability to play the violin. ]

And of course I knew what space was. [Kind of. ] Have you not ever looked at the stars? Wondered what was beyond? There are books about it in the library, you know. If you took a break once in a while, you would read it and learn about it.

[Should he offer some nice news? Hmmmm. Thinking. Thinking. ]

Time stops, back home, I am told. I have been here for three months, and you have not noticed, no?

I can't believe this! I cannot believe this and I just BET it is Lumiere's fault! I JUST BET HE HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THIS!

[Huuuuuff.]

Well, we'll just see about that! Not talking to one's guest is the Height of Bad Manners. And I should know, I'm British.

[Huuuuuuff.]

They should be able to get along until they realize that they can do whatever they ruddy well want to and then CHAOS! But ... But Mrs Potts ought to be able to reign them in.

[Sniff. Such the sniffing. All the sniff.]

I do not need to 'flounce'. I move with Dignity. And Gravitas. I am a man of Purpose while you are a man of Flipertygibbets!

[Yes it went off into a little rant there at the end.]

I am not a dreamer. When I read it is when the day is done and all that has been noted has been marked off. Not off lolling about with poetry about the stars and flirting with feather dusters.

[Really seriously. Something tense in the clock's stance relaxes.]

...No. I would notice if you were gone for three months. That is most definite.

I am in absolute agreement with you on their lack of manners. Though I'm not sure if we can blame this one on our mutual acquaintance, as he's only recently arrived himself.

[No matter how tempting it is to blame all things on the French. There are some things they're innocent of. Occasionally. Technically.]

Wow, you sound ticked.

[Why yes she did go there.]

Hrmph. Well. If he just arrived then I suppose he cannot be blamed for EVERYTHING. Although I still suspect involvement in dragging ME here.

[Huffy breath, before the clock sucked in a breath, and bowed before the phone.]

Apologies, all apologies. Cosgworth, Steward of Prince Adam's Castle. So good to make your accquaintence, Monsieur -- ?

[You can almost hear the coils in his head tinging as he glowers at you.

How does a clock glower? Like this.]

Yes, Hardee-Har-Har. Quite the comedianne, aren't you?

Arthur Kirkland, or England if you would prefer.

[Gives him a polite nod since they can't exactly shake hands through the camera. Well, so to speak.]

I have noticed a pattern of acquaintances and relatives of those already here occasionally being drawn along. Thankfully it hasn't happened to me yet.

A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Kirkland - or ... Monsieur England.

[Well that was a bit of an odd name, he must say. Then he slapped his little wooden hands together.]

SEE? I knew it! I knew he wished me here!

England is fine. There's no need to be formal about it.

[Because he's going to start twitching if he gets called Monsieur anything by too many people. Bah.]

You'll have to take that up with him then. Though it could be more our hosts' sense of humor.

Ah, very good ... England.

[Yes that was still an odd name. Hm.]

Ohhohohoho don't you fret, England! I will take it up with him. I will take it up with Right In His Waxy Big Nose.

[Will not snicker at him. It'd be rude. But oh it's tempting.]

I'm sure you will.

[Huff. Huff. And breath, and Calm. Dignity once more.]

So would you be so kind as to tell me where precisely I am, right now, on this ... Space Ship?

[A talking clock?! Now he really has seen it all! Still a weird sight to see, however!]

Of course you know that candlestick. Makes a lot of sense.

[Daryl's not entirely sure he's seeing this correctly. A talking clock and a talking candlestick are having a shouting match.

If anyone tried to convince him he wasn't having a hallucination (again) he was going to point to that. Yeah. He'd be pointing things out to people he made up, but it'd be satisfying.]

[Now watch Cogsworth get his gears in a bind.]

Well Of Course I Do! He is my best -[ Wait, wait, can't let Lumiere know That.] -- we work together.

That is not even a real word!!!

[Or...it probably is. Some weird...English word. But he is not English and thus he is absolutely in his right to deny its existence. God. ]

That is true, you are horribly deficient of dreaming. And I happen to enjoy my starry poetry and my dalliances with the maids.

[But see? Not everything he says to the clock-man are vicious Mean-Girl quips.]

See? Tell me, what is the last thing you remember? Before arriving here?

[Let these guys be your eternal proof that you're probably a wee bit crazy, Daryl. They are excellent proof for that. ]

[Aha! That explains... something Lumiere has said before! Amusing and also not amusing, but Chuuya gets it.]

I see.

[He nods.]

I'm taking a wild guess here, [not really, with what Cogsworth said in his post] but do you find that you're a victim of his schemes often?

OH YES IT IS! It is a BRITISH WORD that means a fly-by-night-wax-for-brains ...nitwit!

[Oooooh don't you even ask what a word is that you don't even know, this is COGSWORTH.]

Yes, and doesn't that just prove who here is the more Mature Individual? The one who knows what hard work looks like.

[He rubbed his face, going back and forth, pacing on his small wooden legs.]

We were just leaving the ballroom - the Master and Belle were going to sit on the veranda.

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