open rp post

[emiri]

fast and loose role-play

free and easy love, that's how it's s'posed to be!

want to thread with one of mine but aren't in the same game? want me to do something with one of yours in bakerstreet? can't find a good recent bakerstreet meme but want to thread anyway? want to explore au scenarios together? annoyed that i dropped that character you really wanted a thread with?

well drop me a comment here with whatever scenario (or link to a meme) you want, specify the character you want, and we can thread the merry day away!

any active or retired character from the muse list with two stars or more is fair game!

homeless characters are slightly different in that most of them don't have journals or icons set up, so you may have to give me a day or so to do that. and in some cases, a couple more days to canon review if i haven't in a while.

Comments

[rathercommon]

[ What a magician. Kitty, if she were trying to convince someone of her sincerity and earnestness, would talk about the reasons that this is right, the reasons this cause is necessary, why she believes. She'd provide her thoughts as evidence of her devotion. Mandrake? Uses his attention as evidence. If he is dedicating his vaunted attention to this, that's evidence enough of his sincerity. What an egotist. And what a bad argument. No one with half a brain would believe him.

So...Why does she?

Because she does. She looks at him, with all his dandyism and arrogance, and she remembers how he's lied to her face in the past, how he was willing to break his vows, and she remembers the filthy lies he spreads in his pamphlets and his stage shows, and for some reason in spite of all that what she thinks is He'd be useful. Not that he can go to hell, not that she'd be doing her country a service if she cut his throat right here and now (because she could kill him, she could take his life; it wouldn't be difficult, not with him so hapless and willowy-thin and defenseless, and she could get out of here before her boss even noticed the dead kid in the back). But instead: It would be good if we worked together.

You must be really, truly desperate, Kitty. ]

So what's your solution?

[doneproperly]

[Mandrake has no business talking about what is right or wrong. To do so would be hypocritical in the extreme, so he does not bother.]

Well you shot down the one I had been working on. So as I said, I will need some time to come up with another.

This place doesn't seem intent on letting me go any time soon, though. I would wager we have more than enough time to put together something thoroughly cohesive.

[rathercommon]

It'll only be we if you do come up with something.

[ She quickly, sharply, brushes hair out of her eyes so that she can look at him archly and haughtily. (Her hair is getting too long. She's been too busy with planning and staying hidden to get it cut. It seems stupid now that she wasted that much energy; if there's anything this conversation has made clear, it's that Mandrake doesn't have either the interest or the ability to hurt her in this place.) ]

My plan might have problems, but it's better than nothing. And that's the only possibility that's really bad. Doing nothing.

[doneproperly]

[His reply is surprisingly vehement.]

No. I will not-- I will not do nothing. If there's one thing I will not do, I will not go back to that. I may not be personally invested in your cause as you are, but you're wrong if you think I haven't had it up to here with-- with fusty, greedy old men who can't see past their own nose, in more ways than one. To hell with inertia, to hell with the status quo! Our country is falling apart and they refuse to see it. Someone needs to do something.

[rathercommon]

[ And she's clearly taken by surprise. Not unpleasantly so, either: she'd always thought that Mandrake was downright coldblooded, something lizardlike in human form, but...That sounded real. And maybe she's overestimating her knowledge of the esteemed minister, but there honestly hasn't been a time yet when he's lied to her when she didn't know. If he was faking that passion...she'd know. She's sure she'd know.

And she likes passion. She likes people who are passionate. They're worthwhile. It's the apathetic and the jaded you can't do anything with.

And so, for the first time, she's caught off-guard enough and pleased enough that the gaze she turns on him is approving. She smiles, and it's not her usual dangerous spoiling-for-a-fight smile, but instead something with more than a bit of warmth to it. ]

Good.

[ And then, with a little bit of irony - still not without approval - she damns him with faint praise: ]

You're perhaps not as bad as you seem, Mr Mandrake.

[doneproperly]

[Mandrake for his part looks away in embarrassment, flushing red. A moment's silence ensues while his brain is temporarily unable to provide words. After a beat:]

... John. ... You can call me John. If... you would like.

I... am aware that our acquaintance got off to a rather bad start. All those years ago. However, if you are amenable to it... I would appreciate if we could be on better terms. From here on.

[rathercommon]

[ It's such a strange thing, seeing him as a person. She thinks back to her vague memories of the first time she'd met him, some pathetic little kid in an alleyway, someone that Fred (Stanley? it's been so long now) was going to kill. Back in those days, that was the sort of thing they'd do, just to prove to each other and to themselves that they were tough enough for the Resistance. It's easier to reconcile that kid to this stumbling, awkward boy than it is to Mr Mandrake, Minister.

When she'd saved his life from the Golem, for a while afterwards, she'd actually sort of let herself think that maybe what she'd done for him would inspire him in some way. That's the way it always worked out in the penny dreadful novels - that the hero saves the life of his worst enemy, and that helps him see the light and change his ways. It's, what? Three years later, now? And she'd long ago abandoned those ideas as something stupid, something from rotten and contrived books. But here he is. A person, with some kernel of decency in him. A little flushed, awkward, with a bruised nose, offering help to her cause.

She plays it cool, of course. Gives a shrug. ]

If you're on my side, we're going to be on better terms. Anyone who's working to help the people is a friend of mine - or near enough.

[ For just a moment, though, her face does become stern. She levels a finger at him. ]

Though make no mistake. If you double-cross me, or if you're shaping up to be like the rest of them, I won't hold back. I told you I'm not afraid of bloodshed, and that extends to your blood if I find out I was wrong about trusting you.

[ Did that sound tough, or did it sound insane and barbaric? Sometimes it's a little bit hard for her to tell. ]

[doneproperly]

[He's heard worse before breakfast. Threats? Must be Tuesday.]

There's no need to be so melodramatic. You're starting to sound like Bartimaeus.

[rathercommon]

[ By the quirk of her eyebrow, she doesn't consider that an insult in the least. And, by the quirk of her lip, she does take a little bit of pleasure in the thought of Bartimaeus hurling threats at Mandrake. Friend of mine or no, she does enjoy the thought of the demon getting something back at the man who enslaved him. ]

Well, you should remember that pentacles and words of binding can't stop me. My melodrama is something you've got to take seriously.

[ She does realize, maybe a moment too late, that perhaps explicitly identifying magicians' methods of control revealed a bit too much of her knowledge. Doesn't matter, though, and he might not notice. ]

[doneproperly]

Oh? And what do you know of pentacles and words of binding?

[His tone is amused more than anything else.]

[rathercommon]

[ Or if he does notice, it might be grounds for condescension rather than anything of any actual peril. Any regret over being too chatty immediately vanishes, because it allows her to say this, eyebrows lifted with threatening implication: ]

Your well-kept secrets haven't been so well-kept lately. We commoners are learning a lot more about what your lot does.

[ It's always a nice thing if you can get a magician sweating. (And mentally she dedicates the effort as a tribute to Bartimaeus, even though she's still completely furious at him for his refusal to help.) ]

A little bit of a preview of just how hard the magicians will fall. And sooner rather than later.

[doneproperly]

[He doesn't seem terribly fazed.]

Well then, I hope that you're all prepared for years of book learning and hard work, else you'll soon be facing a rather sharp population decline at your own hands.

[rathercommon]

[ ...Disappointing. She looks a bit petulant. ]

Hardly. We don't need magicians. [ And before he can protest - ] And don't give me that Real War Stories rot about magicians defending our borders; it's human blood, not Essence, that really gets spilled to keep us safe.