Richie "Bitch Baby Tears" Tozier (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
summertimeblues) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nysalogs2018-01-13 02:32 pm
summertimeblues) wrote in nysalogs2018-01-13 02:32 pm
i said a-MONAAAAY......CHANGES EV-REEEY-THAAaaang....[Closed]
Who: Richie Tozier (summertimeblues) & Red (persistor), Boxer (desistor), Sandra the Unseeing (tutorb), and J.J. Leroy (underwhelms), possibly others
What: Mission stuff!! And a catch-all for January if need be
When: Early January
Where: Olympia, visiting Wyver for the lovely mountains and lakesand the profit they hold
Warning(s): Potty mouths, perhaps dirty humor, maybe a violence...also J.J. is a terrible embarrassment to dw rp and Canada as a whole, I'm threading with him so you don't have to. You're welcome.
Rod and Bexer - Disturbing the Dead
[Not a month ago, Richie would have outright laughed if you told him to hitch up his suspenders and drag his ass out for a tomb raid. The whole thing would have seemed ludicrous. Childish even, searching for buried treasure in taped off ruins. That's the shit you pulled when you were fourteen and bored and you hear a rumor that the old mill's light turns on by itself at the stroke of midnight.
But call him curious. Or suitably bored. Suitably irritated with how daily life in Olympia now means he's serving liquor to men and women who can't shut up about what a pack of ingrates the good folks of Wyver are. That insipid survey that'd been floating around ground his gears further. Though the two situations hardly co-relate, rising dissent versus hunkering around in caves for trinkets, some irrepressible madness was stirring in him. A need to dissent himself, the likes of which he'd abandoned in his early thirties when he cast off the picket signs and weekend marches. Get his head out of the puckered asshole Olympia was becoming and throw a middle finger to the air.
Also, his wages as a barkeep were fair, but he was used to far, far better. This had money involved.
He contacted Red on a whim for company (and for a moment doubted the choice — she was a mute, would that make it harder to navigate together? They'd have their phones but maybe she'd be stuck doing hambones and finger snaps to call his attention if there was a bat nest he might trip into) and she'd responded quick enough that there was nothing more to discuss. The pair were to meet at the mouth of the mountain and make the trip into the crypt together.
Except the pair's more like a trio.]
So I've gotta say, of all the coincidences I could have imagined, I wouldn't have sat you two down on a love seat if you paid me ten dollars to think it over. Don't I look the fool.
["Wally" is human now, the light from the flashlight catching his fleshy ridges and the leather of his jacket, but he's dragging the sword with him. The sword that he lives in, clinking over ancient stone as they pass into the dark world of the dead. The world's most solid hologram, folks, step right up and take a poke yourself! You won't believe your eyes!] I take it that you hitched wagons before all of that. Or you're a Super Freak the likes of which Rick James couldn't conceive. Congratulations Red, I'm impressed.
Sandy Crabs - A Day in the Life
[The second rebellion takes place on a deceptively more forgiving stage. There's no ghosts or trap doors, but there's pitfalls here all the same. This one is bordering on (or in fact, is) illegal. Something a sensible adult wouldn't have done, and he wouldn't have dared as a grown man in California. There was no risk worth taking it for. In Maine, maybe, but the snooping they'd had to do laid firmly outside of the realm of man and institutions. This was legitimate espionage.
Richie's only been here how long, now? Two, edging on three months? He can't decide if this sudden bout of daring is a healthy change or a stupid one.
This time, he enlists what he can only imagine is the perfect accomplice for the job. She's travel-sized, smart, a verified psychic, and easily hidden into small spaces. Hello Sandra, we're very impressed with your resume and we'd like to welcome you on board. Happy to have you on the team.
They slip through security with relative ease. Sandra's got a neat trick there: blind she may be, but unseeing is a damn lie. She confirms or denies the presence of approaching bodies, and only through her cheats does Richie slip through doors and around the right corners until they hit the office they need.]
You oughta do this full time, babe. You're a dab hand at playing dispatch for thieves. [Richie shuts the door behind them with his heel, and gently props the old gal on the sprawling desktop as he takes a quick gander around.] Maybe we can get you some wheels. Motor you around and you can zip in where man may not follow.
Jimmy Johns Leeroy - Preaching in the Material World
[After all that recklessness, he's ready for something a little more sedate. A trip to the country, so to speak. Luckily there's an option to earn some money there too, and as much as he misses swimming daily in pools or long California beaches, he can only shudder remembering that horking motherfucker that tried to bite his face off on the boat trip in. The lakes might be inland, but even so? No thanks.
He opts to get quartz from the Edrathe Ruins instead. Sets off early in the day so he has a bit of time to see the sights as well, admiring the graceful lines of ancient monuments and having a quick lunch on a snowy knoll. The weather has been downright amicable, even if there's no melt. While the sun is still high and he has plenty of hours to make it back to town, he treks into the dark.
It's some time before he comes across what he needs. He's careful to chart his way through the cave. While not labyrinthe, it's dim and deep enough that he feels caution is necessary. Richie hums, wedging the light between his shoulder and cheek as he pries the crystals off the wall.
There's a splashing sound from further ahead.
He freezes. Whips the light around with a hunchback's pirouette. His hands are still on his knapsack and the rocks so he has to tuck them away before fetching the light proper. Richie waves the light this way and that, but only sees the esophagus of bedrock stretching longer and longer down. How deep does this go?
What's splashing around in the dark down there?
For once, he opts to stay silent. He's alone out here, he's sure of it...]
((if you want to do something in our fair month of January, please feel free to shoot me a PM on this journal! Happy to throw up closed starters anytime.))
summertimeblues) & Red (persistor), Boxer (desistor), Sandra the Unseeing (tutorb), and J.J. Leroy (underwhelms), possibly othersWhat: Mission stuff!! And a catch-all for January if need be
When: Early January
Where: Olympia, visiting Wyver for the lovely mountains and lakes
Warning(s): Potty mouths, perhaps dirty humor, maybe a violence...also J.J. is a terrible embarrassment to dw rp and Canada as a whole, I'm threading with him so you don't have to. You're welcome.
Rod and Bexer - Disturbing the Dead
[Not a month ago, Richie would have outright laughed if you told him to hitch up his suspenders and drag his ass out for a tomb raid. The whole thing would have seemed ludicrous. Childish even, searching for buried treasure in taped off ruins. That's the shit you pulled when you were fourteen and bored and you hear a rumor that the old mill's light turns on by itself at the stroke of midnight.
But call him curious. Or suitably bored. Suitably irritated with how daily life in Olympia now means he's serving liquor to men and women who can't shut up about what a pack of ingrates the good folks of Wyver are. That insipid survey that'd been floating around ground his gears further. Though the two situations hardly co-relate, rising dissent versus hunkering around in caves for trinkets, some irrepressible madness was stirring in him. A need to dissent himself, the likes of which he'd abandoned in his early thirties when he cast off the picket signs and weekend marches. Get his head out of the puckered asshole Olympia was becoming and throw a middle finger to the air.
Also, his wages as a barkeep were fair, but he was used to far, far better. This had money involved.
He contacted Red on a whim for company (and for a moment doubted the choice — she was a mute, would that make it harder to navigate together? They'd have their phones but maybe she'd be stuck doing hambones and finger snaps to call his attention if there was a bat nest he might trip into) and she'd responded quick enough that there was nothing more to discuss. The pair were to meet at the mouth of the mountain and make the trip into the crypt together.
Except the pair's more like a trio.]
So I've gotta say, of all the coincidences I could have imagined, I wouldn't have sat you two down on a love seat if you paid me ten dollars to think it over. Don't I look the fool.
["Wally" is human now, the light from the flashlight catching his fleshy ridges and the leather of his jacket, but he's dragging the sword with him. The sword that he lives in, clinking over ancient stone as they pass into the dark world of the dead. The world's most solid hologram, folks, step right up and take a poke yourself! You won't believe your eyes!] I take it that you hitched wagons before all of that. Or you're a Super Freak the likes of which Rick James couldn't conceive. Congratulations Red, I'm impressed.
Sandy Crabs - A Day in the Life
[The second rebellion takes place on a deceptively more forgiving stage. There's no ghosts or trap doors, but there's pitfalls here all the same. This one is bordering on (or in fact, is) illegal. Something a sensible adult wouldn't have done, and he wouldn't have dared as a grown man in California. There was no risk worth taking it for. In Maine, maybe, but the snooping they'd had to do laid firmly outside of the realm of man and institutions. This was legitimate espionage.
Richie's only been here how long, now? Two, edging on three months? He can't decide if this sudden bout of daring is a healthy change or a stupid one.
This time, he enlists what he can only imagine is the perfect accomplice for the job. She's travel-sized, smart, a verified psychic, and easily hidden into small spaces. Hello Sandra, we're very impressed with your resume and we'd like to welcome you on board. Happy to have you on the team.
They slip through security with relative ease. Sandra's got a neat trick there: blind she may be, but unseeing is a damn lie. She confirms or denies the presence of approaching bodies, and only through her cheats does Richie slip through doors and around the right corners until they hit the office they need.]
You oughta do this full time, babe. You're a dab hand at playing dispatch for thieves. [Richie shuts the door behind them with his heel, and gently props the old gal on the sprawling desktop as he takes a quick gander around.] Maybe we can get you some wheels. Motor you around and you can zip in where man may not follow.
Jimmy Johns Leeroy - Preaching in the Material World
[After all that recklessness, he's ready for something a little more sedate. A trip to the country, so to speak. Luckily there's an option to earn some money there too, and as much as he misses swimming daily in pools or long California beaches, he can only shudder remembering that horking motherfucker that tried to bite his face off on the boat trip in. The lakes might be inland, but even so? No thanks.
He opts to get quartz from the Edrathe Ruins instead. Sets off early in the day so he has a bit of time to see the sights as well, admiring the graceful lines of ancient monuments and having a quick lunch on a snowy knoll. The weather has been downright amicable, even if there's no melt. While the sun is still high and he has plenty of hours to make it back to town, he treks into the dark.
It's some time before he comes across what he needs. He's careful to chart his way through the cave. While not labyrinthe, it's dim and deep enough that he feels caution is necessary. Richie hums, wedging the light between his shoulder and cheek as he pries the crystals off the wall.
There's a splashing sound from further ahead.
He freezes. Whips the light around with a hunchback's pirouette. His hands are still on his knapsack and the rocks so he has to tuck them away before fetching the light proper. Richie waves the light this way and that, but only sees the esophagus of bedrock stretching longer and longer down. How deep does this go?
What's splashing around in the dark down there?
For once, he opts to stay silent. He's alone out here, he's sure of it...]
((if you want to do something in our fair month of January, please feel free to shoot me a PM on this journal! Happy to throw up closed starters anytime.))
no subject
[ So perhaps, slightly for doling out pain. She would say he has built up some karma over the past few months. Simply by how he exists. ]
In that case, perhaps you ought not to tease something so tempting.
[ With one last huff, Sandra sobers herself once again and stands statuesque for a moment, before reaching out again. Not to lay her hands on him, just to lay out a hand, grabbing demandingly. (Beckoning a little hopefully. She can play nice.) ]
no subject
Yeah yeah yeah, you've been itching for it from day one, haven't ya? Now get out of the line, sister, there's about fifty people after you that want to take their crack at the Trashmouth while you got him softened up.
[Not that such a thing was a common bragging point, but he supposes he'll wear it as a badge of honor. Hasn't lost the touch, has he?
Yet curiously, she steadies up. Her expression casts even and this time she makes the first reach. No blows, no bluster, but a little rush in the way the hand comes for him. The chill of the dead air sweeps over his skin once more, and for the umpteenth time he is stricken by how lonely place this might be.
He can't make heads or tails of this sports shit (from the sounds of her first talk, whoever won got to leave some devilish form of purgatory? It was a jumble of hot nonsense even now) but he does know this: no matter how big of a misanthrope or a shut in you might be, it was human nature to stick together. People go mad left alone too long. Sandra may get visitors in her teammates, she may be able to speak and show up green and ghostly to any party she likes, but there's vital parts of living she's been sorely lacking in.
Richie takes her hand in both of his. He's not quite sure what else to do with it but rub the pad of his thumb over the soft skin of her hand. Give the palm a little squeeze.]
No more slapsies, capisce? My face is my bread and butter.
no subject
[ At least, most of them aren't. She could put her finger on a couple Sisters that would love to deck him flat on principle. But he's had enough for one day; she'll forego the fact that they are not alone. Mostly because she has him all to herself. Something tangible she isn't contractually obligated to put in its place. ]
[ When he acquiesces her reach, a brief smile hooks the corners of her mouth, rather like the owner of a pet who's raised a paw to shake than as if it's any favor to her. Of course now that she's got him, there's not... much to do with him, is there? Besides revel in the sensation and leave him standing awkwardly with their hands linked. Which she isn't entirely opposed to, but he speaks up, and there she can break her peculiar concentration with a snort. ]
Your voice, maybe. Your face hardly enters into that.
[ Unremarkable, maybe. She cannot rightly make a remark on it in the first place. 800 years dissolves most of anything, let alone the proper memory of a human face, though that the map of his leaves anything to be desired is not her true point. It is his voice, somehow, that is incredibly important to him. His childhood, his career, though she does not entirely understand what it is he does with it. Saving his life, she understands far less clearly, though at least it is a concept far more familiar than disk jockeying. But his face, she can stand to reason, plays little part in it. ]
[ Beneath whatever significance it has, it's quite the pleasant thing when he isn't using it for evil. Of that she has no doubt... Sandra raises her free hand gently and innocently toward that voice of his, patting his unmarked cheek before pulling back abruptly. ]
Well, I think we have wasted enough time hiding away in here. The hall seems to have cleared for the most part. Let us save this for another time and finish our business.
[ Out you go. With a touch much firmer than that she gave his face, she catches Richie in the sternum and shunts him back, and with an all-consuming hiss like a snap of the fingers, he'll find himself engulfed body and mind by a jet-black flame, consciousness fleeing the same way it had come. Whenever it pulls itself back together again, he'll find his body crumpled in an elegant heap on the office floor. ]