Expatriate Darkleer (
aim_exorable) wrote in
caughtinanetwork2012-05-23 06:43 pm
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Entry tags:
9 ♐ Voice/Action ♐ The leaves of memory
[In the background, the faint sound of leaves rustling and the soothing waves of the ocean can be heard before Darkleer speaks.]
Tell me, if any are so willing, but what do your people do to honor the deceased long after they have passed, whether out of respect or simply to calm any vengeful spirits?
[Action]
[Anyone wandering about by the beach this evening may notice a certain tall troll sitting cross-legged on the sands. Before him are two very small fires, and two small rocky platforms set in the sand. It takes a bit to go and see what is on them- both items are very small, a pen and a hairclip.]
[In the meantime, Darkleer himself seems to be in the process of making a pair of arrows. He's a lot more absorbed in the task than one might think. High up in the air, a large white bird circles about.]
[He won't be much bothered by any company, should someone care to come closer to him.]
Tell me, if any are so willing, but what do your people do to honor the deceased long after they have passed, whether out of respect or simply to calm any vengeful spirits?
[Action]
[Anyone wandering about by the beach this evening may notice a certain tall troll sitting cross-legged on the sands. Before him are two very small fires, and two small rocky platforms set in the sand. It takes a bit to go and see what is on them- both items are very small, a pen and a hairclip.]
[In the meantime, Darkleer himself seems to be in the process of making a pair of arrows. He's a lot more absorbed in the task than one might think. High up in the air, a large white bird circles about.]
[He won't be much bothered by any company, should someone care to come closer to him.]
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Really?
[Apparently.]
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[He starts counting on his fingers.]
Like, fuck, rules about the paint, 'bout how a motherfucker gotta go about living his fuckin' life if he ain't wanna get tossed in the pit, uh, all about the Vast Motherfuckin' Honk what our Messiahs did all foretell to be coming.
[That is like rules, right?]
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What are the rules about the paint? I understand that it's very important, but I never understood its purpose, besides letting others know what you believed in.
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[He motions slightly.]
Also something what you can use to be knowing where another clown all be at in the motherfuckin' brotherhood. How high he be, you get?
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Uh, if you all are in possession of having that knowing, I mean.
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Do you think it matters anymore, since Alternia no longer exists in your time and you are the sole indigo left? Keeping it a secret, I mean.
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[Carefully, he reaches over to lay his hand on top of Gamzee's.]
Whatever you choose to do, Gamzee, I am sure that you will do the right thing for the Messiahs you believe in.
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I got a whole motherfuckin' design shit up on my ol' motherfuckin' top. You can see 'em when we like get back to the hive at, aight?
[If... they can start his computer. It has been a while since he charged it even. It seems silly when it doesn't really do much except serve as the last remaining database full of clown teachings. and viruses. Mostly viruses really.]
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[For now, Darkleer simply pulls him closer and squeezes his shoulder.]
I would like that very much. For now, I simply have to finish something.
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What'cha making there?
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Arrows. [He shows them to Gamzee. Right now, they're in the middle of having intricate designs delicately carved in.] For later this evening.
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You gonna fuckin' be shooting some shit later?
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Not exactly. They are for people I knew, once.
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Like a fuckin' gift?
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A gift...? Yes, I suppose. [A weary smile.] Something like that.
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[He is not dumb! He just... has no attention span sometimes. Most of the times.]
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[But for now, that just earns a sad smile.]
They're dead.
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[Pause.]
Oooh.
Those be the brothers what you wanted praying for.
[Well, close enough.]
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[So, if there's some other god that will carry his words...]
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