infomodder | IC Contact [Asgard]

None of them. Lamb, if that counts as sheep.

How boring.

[Oh boy oh boy.

Give him a recipe for grilled opossum ala "we were extremely poor and they were all over the place" how about that?]

Well if you want something on that list and can get it, I'll see if I can't come up with something for it, other than going with the obvious and making a stew where I throw in everything but the kitchen sink. I bet you'd lick your fingers right down to the bone.

[hello my name is will graham i never help myself ever]

[Will. Oh, oh, Will.]

Wonder what that would taste like.

[Who else would be asking this, honestly? He walked into the trap without realizing it, something he'd done for nearly a year back home. This time he didn't have any chance to get out of it.

That damn hand around his ankle.

And if it's not Barty, did he tell someone? Or is there someone who's just decided to start asking Travelers their food likes and dislikes and focus on other kinds of meat?]

A bitter bloody mess if you could stop screaming in pain long enough. Fingertips are especially sensitive. Honestly, it would probably be all blood unless you stanched it and just let your bone stick out. And then you could try. If you hadn't fainted. Doesn't sound very savory.

Delightfully graphic, you definitely should look into writing a cookbook.

If you consider that graphic, I'd hate to see what you would think of my classes.

[Pictures. Pictures, and none of them were holding back on the gravity of the crime.]

Unless your idea of delightful is more graphic than that? Pictures? Visuals, right up close? Seeing it like you were there?

What do you want to do, take it on stage?

[Wow, those were some memories Will didn't want back, playing a man like a cello. Thanks.]

There have been pretty bad nights at the symphony before. We could do that, if you want to be dramatic. Even find a fat lady to sing when it's all over with.

[Barty would feel accomplished over always finding buttons to push, but well. Triggering Will is like random word bingo.]

Not that appreciative of music?

[Deer, nasty birds associated with horrible deaths and the dead, things that rhyme with bad things...it adds up.

Kind of.

It's bad math, just like his clocks.

Once again he hears those words in Lecter's voice, hears it as disappointment and scolding and he hates it.]

Everyone has different tastes in music. I'm just not a fan of the symphony as of late. All those jealous second chairs trying to steal first chair, competition for solo parts, brass and woodwind rivalry...nasty business if someone within it is less than pleasant.

Perhaps we should stay with just writing down recipes.

Did I scare you? I didn't mean to scare you. You show me one of yours and I'll show you one of mine.

Not half so ghastly.

[ Oh hell, he was right. He was right, his vague paranoid suspicions were right, how were they right? He'd better not be right. This is -- frankly, this is some fucked up shit. ]

Do you worry that he knows?

At least I've never seen a defense attorney float around in a dark cloak. Physically.

[Will thinks wizard turf wars are fucked up shit. What does Albus know now? He's not sure. Death Eaters, food-related jokes and wordplay and...

It's not so difficult to see, unlike poetry.]

That he knows what? He saw plenty of things that really happened and didn't. I catch serial killers by stepping inside their heads, really getting into their shoes, so I have a lot of memories of killing people that I didn't actually kill because that's how I do my job. So he sees me killing someone and thinks I did it, but I don't think he really knows because explaining that is difficult, even to my boss. If you stepped into my head on a bad day, you'd think I just ran around town all my life, sneaking into houses and everywhere else to slaughter people for no reason other than I could. That he knows I've been dealing with crimes back home that turn my stomach and make it difficult to eat meat, that I have a really justified and yet still irrational fear that I'm a cannibal? Sure, he probably does. He just probably doesn't think I'm bothered by it, if what he saw was anything to go by.

You have been speaking with my nephew.

[ Blunt. ]

[God bless an actual name this time. Had it been coming from something obviously not a real name, he'd be a little cagey. That, and he's already gotten this one and put it down in his mental notebook.

The good uncle. The good one. When the other two want him dead, how difficult was it to look "good" by comparison?]

Joffrey Baratheon? We've been talking a bit. We came across each other when he first got here. [At which point, Joffrey promptly kicked his dog and Will took him out for waffles. Naturally.] Has something happened?

[Or is this just a friendly little talk about how, if he continues to talk to the little king fellow, he's expected to act? What he's allowed to say and not say, being asked what rumors he's heard...]

To my knowledge? No.

The boy seems to consider you a servant. Perhaps an inaccurate estimation, but I thought we'd best speak, regardless. I know not what all he's told you of it, but in our world, his protection is my charge. A duty made more difficult by times of war.

I've done my best to make truces of us here; I do not know whether they will hold. Joff is no king in Asgard, but he remains my blood -- should my sweet sister ever arrive, I've no desire she look upon his corpse, however temporarily.

[ Again. ]

You understand my desire to know more of you.

Edited 2014-03-12 06:06 (UTC)

[There's something like a laugh at the mention of Will being considered a servant. He's not mad about it, not insulted, not ready to huff and puff and talk about how that's just!!! not!!! right!!! That boy is going to learn that's not how it works here! No, he doesn't come from a land of kings and knights (at least, knights that aren't musicians and actors and so forth and so on), but from what he's seen? Joffrey's going to have a hell of a harder time of it. Age. The power he apparently had. It'll make it more difficult. Not that everyone should cater to him, but less mockery and more patience would go a long way, or so Will would argue.]

I understand completely. [He still sounds a little amused. Servant. Is that better or worse than a tutor?] I don't want anyone to die here, and definitely not him. What do you want to know? I'm a rather honest man. Go ahead and ask.

[Oddly enough, for whatever reason, I'm a rather honest man comes out in Will's voice, yes. Of course it does. But he hears it in another in his head, and he could swear he had almost said I'm honest. As honest as anyone. Things not to be honest about: hearing some asshole's voice in his head. Would anyone even ask what he hears his thoughts as though...]

[ She's literally just taking Nymeria out for a walk - partly because she doesn't trust the direwolf out and about alone yet and partly because she missed the hell out of her. Everything is pretty uneventful, and she's just passing through the Sigyn district on her way back to the house when the wolf suddenly makes a break for it.

It takes Arya a split second to process what's happened, and then she curses loudly and foully before taking off after her. ]

Nymeria, stop it!

[ Congratulations Will Graham, you're about to be accosted by the latest addition to the Stark pack, followed closely in pursuit by an out of breath child. ]

[Within the home and district of those lovely, peaceful humanitarians, there lays a nefarious beast, a man who doesn't quite belong, or so he thinks. His face needs a shave, his hair needs a cut, and his clothes really could be less thrift shopping, but he doesn't seem to care so much. This is his person suit, this guy who looks scruffy and a little awkward, just some guy who doesn't have a sense of fashion to speak of. For all intents and purposes, he'd be better off in a small cabin with a boat he made himself. There's nothing dangerous in him, or so it seems. But his person suit? Just so happens to contain a jacket, and that jacket has the true design of this monstrous creature of fear and murderous intent: an inner pocket that is never without a small bag of bacon nestled on the inside, right next to his beating, pounding, not-yet-on-the-menu heart.

He's so used to putting it there he no longer thinks about it. Putting it in his jacket is just like putting on the rest of his clothes, a cologne of eau de where are the dogs and dog-like creatures I have not yet ~~stolen~~ found that people might just assume was Will having spent time making breakfast before he went out. To him, this subtle method of wooing other people's companions is about on par with cooking breakfast. Easy. Part of a regular day.

Whether or not he realizes his design attracts animals the same as he can use it to feed them if he comes across them isn't so easy.

What is easy to see? A direwolf (he can tell that much by now, having been such good bacon-swapping friends with Grey Wind and adorning him with flower crowns during a fiery funeral) bounding up next to him, whimpering, tail thumping around him, circling him and making him stop. Fear? Will has fear, has it in buckets and jars and vats, a house made of fear, hallucinations that give him nightmares following his every step, but for the new direwolf nipping the air in front of his heart? He doesn't have or feel any of it. He doesn't have eyes for anyone but her, either, and it's not until he's pulled that baggie out of his jacket and squatted down to feed her out of his hand without worrying if he'll keep any fingers that he hears the sound of a girl shouting behind him. He looks over his shoulder, still feeding her, still seemingly not at all afraid to have one of those vicious creatures nipping at his fingers. His fingers! No fear!]

She yours? [It's friendly, unfazed by the entire situation, it's like he's talking about a puppy for all the terror he shows.] That makes you one of Robb Stark's sisters, right?

[Still not bothered when she gingerly gnaws at the hand holding that bag, nope. No fear.]

Edited 2014-03-13 23:32 (UTC)

[The world's most awkward pause because how do you say 'yeah, guess what, there are two people here who look strangely enough like me that it's worrisome.']

So yeah. Apparently there's now two people here who look weirdly similar to me. One's John, who we both met, and the other's Adam, who's also in Baldr but is British for some reason.

[Whale's voice plainly gives off the impression that he has no idea why this is happening, what the hell is up with his life.]

Just wanted to give you a head's up.

[Will's not as sick as he was, and Whale's secure enough with the whole issue to let his voice be heard, so he opts out of texting this time and, yes, returns it exactly as he's gotten it. It's not the low hum of the Police or the way he talked about Alana. More like he realizes the gravity of the situation, same as he did with his crappy clocks.]

So you've got a guy in your house that looks just like you, only he's got a British accent, and now you have this new guy to deal with, too.

[The nice thing about this? Will knows he's not getting back to "what is going on with my head" levels of insanity.]

If you ever get all scrambled because of it, I have some great exercises that might help keep you grounded that isn't drawing clocks.

[Head's up gets him basic psychiatric methods in return. Or the offer of it; he doubts Whale would take it seriously, or even needs it. It shows as much in his voice—mostly a joke, yes, but he's willing to share if there's actual interest in it.

And certainly not going to judge.]

Honestly, I'm not going to think about it too much. I think this just means that the universe likes my face.

[Which is a VERY attractive face in Whale's mind. And really, even though he says he's not going to think about it too much....he's trying his hardest not to think about it too much. Because he needs to not think about it and he's thinking about it and GREAT JOB, WHALE.]

It's not a bad face to have, no.

[GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY not really, no. Will's used to faces haunting him that are slashed to hell and back, staring at burned bodies, the gray or colorless faces of the dead, faces missing eyes...Whale's face is whole and intact and hasn't been destroyed just yet.

And he hasn't had the horrible vision of him wearing antlers, so yes, his face is not bad at all.]

Thanks, though. It's good to know who not to start talking to about fevers because I got faces mixed up.

[People look strange
When you're a stranger
Faces seem ugly
When you've got encephalitis
holy shit, everyone is so ugly]

[be thankful you haven't had the equally interesting vision of him wearing guyliner, THANKS COSTUME DEPARTMENT AND THANKS FAIRY TALE LAND.]

Hey, if you can't check the bracelets or the accents, just ask about fairies. The one that doesn't react in plain confusion is me.

[said kind of grumpy because fairies, man.]

IC Contact [Asgard]

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there's a band called starfucker and i feel like that's relevant

there is never a time where this would not be revelant

voice

voice WOW GOOD JOB JAIME NO TEXT THIS TIME

ninja typo edit

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idk whenever you want ; ACTION!

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voice, set on whatever day after John's post

best doctor

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