[After this conversation.]
If you see a big burly guy who you could swear is at least part bear can you let me know
He goes by the name Beowulf
Sticks out like a sore thumb
Oh and don't have sex with him he will crush your pelvis
[A warning, since Monty is an okay guy and she feels like being nice.]
If you see a big burly guy who you could swear is at least part bear can you let me know
He goes by the name Beowulf
Sticks out like a sore thumb
Oh and don't have sex with him he will crush your pelvis
[A warning, since Monty is an okay guy and she feels like being nice.]
Beowulf? Ms. Renart, are you being serious? Another friend with parents who favored great literature?
As an aside to that, I would appreciate your discretion in discussion our relations. I do not care to share my private matters with the world, if it's all the same. Certainly not with the likes of Mr. Accelerator.
As an aside to that, I would appreciate your discretion in discussion our relations. I do not care to share my private matters with the world, if it's all the same. Certainly not with the likes of Mr. Accelerator.
I need you to add something to your notes on everyone here. James Tiberius Kirk is allergic to all medications except Tylenol. I trust you know the medical personnel to pass that information on to should he ever be knocked unconscious and need treatment.
[Monty's very curious how that conversation arose, but there's something else to mention. He's tempted to make his agreement contingent on Malcolm leaving him alone, but given this is about Kirk and not Malcolm, himself, Monty's willing to acquiesce.]
Of course, Al Sa-Her. Given that the majority of persons who have expressed abilities with regard to practical medicines have been mislaid with the disappearance of Mr. Ratchet recently, there are very few people to inform.
I take it Tylenol is a brand, though? What is it? For those who do not hail from your place or time.
Of course, Al Sa-Her. Given that the majority of persons who have expressed abilities with regard to practical medicines have been mislaid with the disappearance of Mr. Ratchet recently, there are very few people to inform.
I take it Tylenol is a brand, though? What is it? For those who do not hail from your place or time.
Edited 2015-06-03 21:14 (UTC)
[Sent some time after this thread, so... actually a little bit late, considering Dominic's known what Espio is since the unreality pockets. Oh well. Better late than never.]
You can remove "Grell Sutcliff" from your roster. He knows.
You can remove "Grell Sutcliff" from your roster. He knows.
Edited 2015-06-18 19:01 (UTC)
Thank you for informing me. I hope he took it well.
[Monty bristles only slightly when he sees Accelerator's familiar penmanship in his journal.]
How very cryptic, Mr. Accelerator. I have met Loki. Is there something you'd like to share with me about him?
How very cryptic, Mr. Accelerator. I have met Loki. Is there something you'd like to share with me about him?
[Dated to after this encounter.]
The Nogitsune can be hurt by normal lead bullets. He's also claiming the youngest Doctor is his new Master. Anything you know about that? Last I heard, you were his master.
The Nogitsune can be hurt by normal lead bullets. He's also claiming the youngest Doctor is his new Master. Anything you know about that? Last I heard, you were his master.
I know we had a falling out after he announced me as his master. I asked him what might be required to remove his presence from me, and pretended to go along with it. He claimed I was free of him, which only cements the idea that he's making it all up for his own pleasure.
I didn't realize he's gone after the Doctor, though. I am a bit worried, sir. When he said I was free, he told me to keep my body safe; he appears to intend to possess me, instead of Mr. De Luca if the moment strikes. I don't know what's true for him any more, but he may pick a 'master' to focus on as a potential host body.
I'll see if I can get him to leave the Doctor alone, at least. I don't know what sway I'll have with him, though, if he's pretending I'm no longer his master.
I didn't realize he's gone after the Doctor, though. I am a bit worried, sir. When he said I was free, he told me to keep my body safe; he appears to intend to possess me, instead of Mr. De Luca if the moment strikes. I don't know what's true for him any more, but he may pick a 'master' to focus on as a potential host body.
I'll see if I can get him to leave the Doctor alone, at least. I don't know what sway I'll have with him, though, if he's pretending I'm no longer his master.
Navarro.
You're the one who put the lists and directory near that white thing, right?
What do you know about it?
You're the one who put the lists and directory near that white thing, right?
What do you know about it?
Very little, I'm afraid. I do know the Hedonists fear it and have told people to keep away from it. I'm not entirely sure why. I did make an examination of it when the fortress changed.
[With his tongue, among other things... In his defense, he'd been a fox at the time.]
It didn't appear to have any particularly striking properties apart from being impossible to move. Is there some trouble with it?
[With his tongue, among other things... In his defense, he'd been a fox at the time.]
It didn't appear to have any particularly striking properties apart from being impossible to move. Is there some trouble with it?
[So in Renart's opinion, being part of a sort-of-maybe-relationship (she isn't sure, she doesn't want to talk about the details) means gifts. And not just gifts being given to her, as much as she likes the things Monty has given her.
Thankfully there are no birds around for her to catch and leave on his bed, because that's generally her go-to when it comes to these kinds of situations. Chicken, usually. If she's in a good mood she even goes ahead and plucks it.
But no. The appearance of the libraries is very welcome, and whenever Monty gets back from being out he'll find a book on his bed. It appears to be a first edition of Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. She knows he hasn't read it, as it was originally published in 1943. Unfortunately it's in French, but if he believes he can read it it shouldn't be a problem.
Oh, and she had to break into his place to leave it, but that's hardly worth mentioning.]
Thankfully there are no birds around for her to catch and leave on his bed, because that's generally her go-to when it comes to these kinds of situations. Chicken, usually. If she's in a good mood she even goes ahead and plucks it.
But no. The appearance of the libraries is very welcome, and whenever Monty gets back from being out he'll find a book on his bed. It appears to be a first edition of Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. She knows he hasn't read it, as it was originally published in 1943. Unfortunately it's in French, but if he believes he can read it it shouldn't be a problem.
Oh, and she had to break into his place to leave it, but that's hardly worth mentioning.]
[Monty is more than a little annoyed that someone has broken into his house to make this delivery (and the black fur on his bed makes it clear who that person is), but he's almost charmed by the thought and effort. He can only roll his eyes as he picks up the book left and begins to flip through.
He doesn't stop until he's consumed the entire little novella several hours later.
Well, then. Is this Renart's way of telling him he's tamed her? He'll have to ask later. Each time he glances at the book on the shelf he's put up himself, he can't help smiling.]
He doesn't stop until he's consumed the entire little novella several hours later.
Well, then. Is this Renart's way of telling him he's tamed her? He'll have to ask later. Each time he glances at the book on the shelf he's put up himself, he can't help smiling.]
Edited (fixing a missing word) 2015-07-24 21:53 (UTC)
Excuse me, Monty-san. What do you know about that Dio Brando person?
[Monty is hesitant to tell a woman something dangerous, but given the very on point questions Mari had been asking, he's inclined to relax his standards.]
Certain things that he does not wish to have made public, Ms. Mari. I would ask for your confidence before speaking freely.
Certain things that he does not wish to have made public, Ms. Mari. I would ask for your confidence before speaking freely.
Hey, Monty! One of the newer people wanted to know more about your information gathering and record keeping.
Edited 2015-07-15 06:50 (UTC)
Thank you, Ms. Mari! Who might it be? I'm happy to contact them.
[Sol, at least, doesn't regret anything their encounter. He's been thinking of it fondly, even if he might not have initiated it that way under normal circumstances.]
Heard y'have a guitar. If you want to bring it next time, I can play.
Heard y'have a guitar. If you want to bring it next time, I can play.
[Oh. That's... not someone he was expecting to hear from. Or, rather, he had been, but it's awfully soon after their last encounter, and Monty feels his face beginning to flush for no good reason at all. He hadn't been entirely himself when he'd met and sung for Sol, but the feeling, something that had made his heart beat a little faster is still there. Still, his writing is crisp as he pretends at feeling nothing at all whatsoever. Sol seems to be doing well enough to pretend nothing apart from the music happened.]
That would be very nice. It's a Spanish guitar. I'm not so very sure it might be suited to Queen, unless they've something a bit softer that you haven't played on your phonograph.
That would be very nice. It's a Spanish guitar. I'm not so very sure it might be suited to Queen, unless they've something a bit softer that you haven't played on your phonograph.
[He doesn't need to hear her voice to know its tone. Which is probably for the best when all he has is his journal.]
I'm back. Are you all right?
As all right as you might be?
I'm back. Are you all right?
As all right as you might be?
I beg your pardon, Mr. Rhys? Why, pray tell, should I have anything to do with your affairs with Dio?
[If that wretched man actually told this creature what happened...]
[If that wretched man actually told this creature what happened...]
[Because Espio is a rat. An angry rat who's picking someone to vent at, that he knows he can vent at.]
If Dio Brando isn't on your shit list, he should be. I haven't run into someone so blatantly suspicious since a demon shoved what looked like a piece of Hell in our school basement and used it as a kitchen.
If Dio Brando isn't on your shit list, he should be. I haven't run into someone so blatantly suspicious since a demon shoved what looked like a piece of Hell in our school basement and used it as a kitchen.
[Well, that's certainly a message to receive.]
He lies at the very top, actually. What is it he's done that's particularly egregious at the moment?
He lies at the very top, actually. What is it he's done that's particularly egregious at the moment?
Edited 2015-10-19 03:53 (UTC)
[A little while after the question about laundry]
I have good news! The blood is all cleaned up! I
[It's impossible for Monty to hear a sneeze via text, but there's the sense of it anyway.]
I'm sorry, could I get advice on one more
[That weird sneeze-pause again.]
Is it possible to believe up allergy medicine? I managed to get the fur out of my clothes but the effect is still lingering.
I have good news! The blood is all cleaned up! I
[It's impossible for Monty to hear a sneeze via text, but there's the sense of it anyway.]
I'm sorry, could I get advice on one more
[That weird sneeze-pause again.]
Is it possible to believe up allergy medicine? I managed to get the fur out of my clothes but the effect is still lingering.
It's certainly possible, I suppose, if there's specific medicines for that. I'm afraid you're talking to the wrong person for modern medicines. I could imagine you up laudanum. It would make you feel quite all right for a good long while.
In which we learn Scientists cannot handle their opium.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mountainofevidence
- 2015-11-05 15:58 (UTC) - ExpandSo...........
I heard you're the suavest guy I'll ever meet.
Prove it.
I heard you're the suavest guy I'll ever meet.
Prove it.
[That is a... rather unexpected missive.]
Are you asking my to court you, Mr. Kida? I didn't think I was your type.
Are you asking my to court you, Mr. Kida? I didn't think I was your type.
I'm sorry about all the wax on the floor. I promise I'll clean it up!
[It was for Science, okay?!]
[It was for Science, okay?!]
[Monty has no idea what Carlos is talking about.]
The wax? What wax?
[What have you been doing for Science, Carlos?]
The wax? What wax?
[What have you been doing for Science, Carlos?]
[ Monty already doesn't like this conversation. ]
Yes. Has something happened?
Yes. Has something happened?
My Lord, I realize you may be busy, but I have need of a bit of information from you, when you have time. Please send me a message at your convenience.
[Mikado is, quite possibly, the only one Monty doesn't want that address from, but he tolerates it for the moment.]
Demyx is all right if that's what you're going to ask, Mikado. Are you well?
Demyx is all right if that's what you're going to ask, Mikado. Are you well?
I'll be over presently. Is there anything I need to bring?
[Monty's a little dubious about what this repayment might be. He had said anything, which left the door open to rather unfortunate and embarrassing options.]
[Monty's a little dubious about what this repayment might be. He had said anything, which left the door open to rather unfortunate and embarrassing options.]
Sometime between the 2nd and 3rd this is found on Monty's bedside table. Cecil's real life handwriting is a lot more scribble than the penmanship his voice takes in Monty's book, but such things are, currently at least, unavoidable.
Dearest,
I've re-written this probably17 18 times now and I'm still not sure what to say. I keep trying to avoid things with flowery prose, to tell a story as though the story belonged to someone else. But the story does not belong to someone else. It belongs to me and to us and I am trying, this time, to just say it. Maybe this will finally be the letter I actually leave you.
Something is wrong. Something is wrong and I do not know how to fix it. Something about us has gone ugly and the house has gone ugly and the inside of my brain and my heart has gone ugly. This is not your fault. It is not anyone's fault. It is a thing that happens to people when they live in strange circumstances.
For a time, I thought that I was immune to the strangeness of the world we find ourselves in. It was uncomfortable, but not wrong, just different. But as the months have dragged on, the more I feel like I'm a complete outsider in a world that demands connection. I'm holding on to my beliefs about myself left over from who I was before, and they're not letting me forge a new life here how I want. I am an echo.
And echos are doomed to fade.
As are we all, of course, but I don't intend to do so any time soon. I need to work some things out and I need to do it myself. I need to re-learn who it is that I am, in the quiet spaces when no one else is around and I need to make my peace with that. I cannot do that in this house and I cannot do it with anyone's help.
Please do not worry about me and please don't try to find me, either-- the very nature of what I need to do requires that I do this alone. The devices resetting means I need to do this now, when someone can't contact me against my will. I will be fine. I will be safe. I will be back.
I love you.
Cecil
Dearest,
I've re-written this probably
Something is wrong. Something is wrong and I do not know how to fix it. Something about us has gone ugly and the house has gone ugly and the inside of my brain and my heart has gone ugly. This is not your fault. It is not anyone's fault. It is a thing that happens to people when they live in strange circumstances.
For a time, I thought that I was immune to the strangeness of the world we find ourselves in. It was uncomfortable, but not wrong, just different. But as the months have dragged on, the more I feel like I'm a complete outsider in a world that demands connection. I'm holding on to my beliefs about myself left over from who I was before, and they're not letting me forge a new life here how I want. I am an echo.
And echos are doomed to fade.
As are we all, of course, but I don't intend to do so any time soon. I need to work some things out and I need to do it myself. I need to re-learn who it is that I am, in the quiet spaces when no one else is around and I need to make my peace with that. I cannot do that in this house and I cannot do it with anyone's help.
Please do not worry about me and please don't try to find me, either-- the very nature of what I need to do requires that I do this alone. The devices resetting means I need to do this now, when someone can't contact me against my will. I will be fine. I will be safe. I will be back.
I love you.
Cecil
[On the first read-through, Monty is angry, the resentment bubbling up, boiling. He goes to the trouble to promise not to run off again without discussing it with Cecil beforehand, and then Cecil goes and does the same thing? It hurts, and he's scared. What if something happens to the man? At least Monty had brought others along with him on all of his journeys! What is he planning to do? Wander about until he's half-faded without any distraction to sustain him? Cecil might be well topped up on the stuff, but even he won't be able to last more than a week or two, especially if he's having to make everything for himself. Monty has half a mind to go and fetch Nah and have her fly him up and out over the desert to find Cecil and drag him home.
On the second read-through, the anger shifts over to Renart. Things had been going sideways for a bit, but they'd outright flipped over at that breakfast the vixen had ruined. If she'd just stayed in the room, if she'd just kept quiet, been kind, been anything except who she really is, he could have kept everything level. Damn her and damn her Story! He should go and show her this, ask her if she's happy. The worst part about it is that he thinks she might be.
On the final read-through, anger at others has given way to anger and frustration with himself. He'd thought things were getting better after they'd talked at the hot springs, after he'd promised to try to support Cecil as best he can, after Cecil had given him Carlos' watch. He doesn't understand what he's done wrong - and it must be something he's done wrong, in spite of what Cecil's letter might say. A real man, a true gentleman would be able to prevent this sort of thing. If he'd just been cleverer. If he'd just paid more attention, tried to drag Cecil out of the house more and forced him to interact with other people, expanded his network, found connections in this new world... He should have done that, and he hadn't. Now Cecil's run off to the desert with only a letter and Monty feels compelled to listen to his last request, as much as it wounds him and his pride to do so. 'Don't try to find me.'
Monty folds the letter back up and goes to find Carlos.]
On the second read-through, the anger shifts over to Renart. Things had been going sideways for a bit, but they'd outright flipped over at that breakfast the vixen had ruined. If she'd just stayed in the room, if she'd just kept quiet, been kind, been anything except who she really is, he could have kept everything level. Damn her and damn her Story! He should go and show her this, ask her if she's happy. The worst part about it is that he thinks she might be.
On the final read-through, anger at others has given way to anger and frustration with himself. He'd thought things were getting better after they'd talked at the hot springs, after he'd promised to try to support Cecil as best he can, after Cecil had given him Carlos' watch. He doesn't understand what he's done wrong - and it must be something he's done wrong, in spite of what Cecil's letter might say. A real man, a true gentleman would be able to prevent this sort of thing. If he'd just been cleverer. If he'd just paid more attention, tried to drag Cecil out of the house more and forced him to interact with other people, expanded his network, found connections in this new world... He should have done that, and he hadn't. Now Cecil's run off to the desert with only a letter and Monty feels compelled to listen to his last request, as much as it wounds him and his pride to do so. 'Don't try to find me.'
Monty folds the letter back up and goes to find Carlos.]
[It took far more energy to write this than it should but he feels it's something important to address after seeing himself referred to by a name he detests.]
Montague.
I've long since disowned the Brando family name. Do not refer to me with it henceforth, and you would do well to have the name stricken from the record.
I have reason to believe you heard it from Jonathan. Jonathan Joestar died a century ago and his information is outdated.
Montague.
I've long since disowned the Brando family name. Do not refer to me with it henceforth, and you would do well to have the name stricken from the record.
I have reason to believe you heard it from Jonathan. Jonathan Joestar died a century ago and his information is outdated.
[There's a spike of a cold fear and dread in Monty's heart when he receives Dio's message. He's already had a visit from Sol and decided to move venues to Renart's house since his presence there isn't in the directory for anyone to find. But Dio is still, well... Dio. Along with the fear comes anger, though, and a desire to be entirely petty.]
My name is Lord Highhurst as far as you might be concerned, Mr. Brando. Mr. Jonathan Joestar is alive now and I consider his opinion on the matter to hold greater weight.
Do not contact me further, please. I have no interest in communicating with you.
My name is Lord Highhurst as far as you might be concerned, Mr. Brando. Mr. Jonathan Joestar is alive now and I consider his opinion on the matter to hold greater weight.
Do not contact me further, please. I have no interest in communicating with you.
Hiii, Lord Monty~
I talked to Elice about the cārvāka affair, but the answer was about as unclear as expected. She couldn't say whether humans borrowed the concept from the Hedonists or vice versa.
Was there anything in the library?
I talked to Elice about the cārvāka affair, but the answer was about as unclear as expected. She couldn't say whether humans borrowed the concept from the Hedonists or vice versa.
Was there anything in the library?
[Well, so much for Izaya being useful. Or Elice, for that matter.]
I fear I haven't found anything as of yet, no. It's unfortunate to hear Ms. Elice had no information, either. Not too surprising, but unfortunate. We may be able to make inquiries of the Historians the next time they're about. I'm on better terms with their leader.
[Whatever that might mean for Hadrian.]
I'll let you know if I do find anything, but there's a great deal of illicit literature to wade through to find anything of use.
I fear I haven't found anything as of yet, no. It's unfortunate to hear Ms. Elice had no information, either. Not too surprising, but unfortunate. We may be able to make inquiries of the Historians the next time they're about. I'm on better terms with their leader.
[Whatever that might mean for Hadrian.]
I'll let you know if I do find anything, but there's a great deal of illicit literature to wade through to find anything of use.
[Anonymous cake delivery service! ...what? Birthdays are a thing. As the little notecard states, "birthdays require cake. it's the rules."
It's only a victoria sponge cake with an interesting stencilled spiral pattern of icing sugar. It looks handmade, not perfect and decorated well enough to be a product of the imagination. It does kinda make it obvious where it's from though, given how few people would bake cakes themselves.]
It's only a victoria sponge cake with an interesting stencilled spiral pattern of icing sugar. It looks handmade, not perfect and decorated well enough to be a product of the imagination. It does kinda make it obvious where it's from though, given how few people would bake cakes themselves.]
[That's far more touching than it probably should be. Monty finds himself not actually wanting to eat the cake to better preserve it. That's silly, though.
So shall the required birthday cake be enjoyed by the gentleman and his cottage-mates.]
So shall the required birthday cake be enjoyed by the gentleman and his cottage-mates.]
[There is another cake delivery. This one in the form of a cupcake more than an actual large cake. It's chocolate, with a vanilla icing skull on the top of it that should make it fairly obvious who this one is from.
It comes with a small note that someone's stuck into it's side with a toothpick: Happy Birthday! Congratulations on your achievement.]
It comes with a small note that someone's stuck into it's side with a toothpick: Happy Birthday! Congratulations on your achievement.]
[Monty's too polite to let food go to waste - especially something handmade - but there's a temptation to. If only to spite Undertaker. It might have been all right without the note. With it, it's terrible teasing.
He'll eat Undertaker's cupcake, but only after glaring at it balefully for a bit.
It's unfortunately very good.]
He'll eat Undertaker's cupcake, but only after glaring at it balefully for a bit.
It's unfortunately very good.]
Hey hey guess who's birthday it is (it's yours)
You should've told me ahead of time, I would've had time to make/hex something! But since I'm short on planning time AND ideas I'm asking what kind of things do you even like?! All of my ideas involve body parts.....
Renart said it was okay that I asked
You should've told me ahead of time, I would've had time to make/hex something! But since I'm short on planning time AND ideas I'm asking what kind of things do you even like?! All of my ideas involve body parts.....
Renart said it was okay that I asked
[Oh. Dear god. He's suddenly very glad he never gave Henry the time to prepare. The offer of body parts has him immediately thinking of alternatives.]
That's very sweet, Henry. You really needn't go to the trouble. I never really had presents for my birthday back home, and people have already made me some very nice cakes. Well-wishes would be lovely, of course. Or perhaps you could just come over for tea. That might be nice.
[Renart, why did you send this man at him?]
That's very sweet, Henry. You really needn't go to the trouble. I never really had presents for my birthday back home, and people have already made me some very nice cakes. Well-wishes would be lovely, of course. Or perhaps you could just come over for tea. That might be nice.
[Renart, why did you send this man at him?]
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