001 △ text

[triangleman]

FOHYHU PLQGV DQG ZDWFKIXO HBHV
ZLOO DOZDBV HDUQ D ILWWLQJ SULCH


[ooc: there's an excellent decoding tool for the impatient (like me)! he'll just be using a simple caesar for most replies... unless you really impress him.]

Comments

[oldstandard]

The sun's a fiery rock that can't read a clock. It's bedtime, which you now have because of reasons and also demons being afoot.

[Stan is now very insistently pointing to the hallway.] Sleep tight, no bedbugs, yadda yada, go.

[deciphered]

We'll have time to talk about this later.

[It's as final as anything Stan's said, and a clear indication to leave. Even after so many years apart, Ford knows his brother well enough to know what's coming.]

Don't breathe a word of this to anyone. Not until we know what we're doing.

[glitterateur]

[Judging by the pointing and the new bedtime and the general frosty tone going on here, she did not make things better. There is probably not a way to make this better and also convince Stan that four in the afternoon is not a bedtime.]

...fine.

[But she doesn't have to be happy about it!! She slides off her chair and gives Dipper a Look (that says there will be eavesdropping, don't you worry bro) before starting the reluctant walk to their room.]

C'mon Dipper.

[ursawhiner]

This isn't fair! We've fought Bill, too!

[Despite his upset, he still follows Mabel to their room, shooting resentful glances back at the grunkles.]

[oldstandard]

[Stan's eye visibly twitches at Dipper's last comment, but he remains silent until it seems that they have left the room and are out of earshot.]

So. How long has this been going on exactly.

[His tone indicates that there are correct and incorrect answers. He knows which he's going to get though.]

[deciphered]

[Ford looks away, letting the silence drag on a little too long as he searches for the words he wants, for a place to start.]

Longer than I'm proud of. I'd first encountered Bill years before I... [Though he trails off, it's not exactly difficult to fill in the blank.] He'd convinced me he was a friend. I was foolish enough to fall for it.

[oldstandard]

[He makes a light clicking noise against his teeth. There's a lot he could say, a lot he would normally say if he weren't more concerned about the kids.]

How long have the kids been involved in this?

[deciphered]

I can't say for sure. By the time I knew to warn them, it was already too late.

[oldstandard]

Alright, so what've you armed them with? What are you doing now so they're not cat toys to whatever this surprisingly boring named thing is.

[deciphered]

[Ford frowns, his tone becoming increasingly short and clipped. Like he's explaining to someone being willfully ignorant instead of a person he's kept in the dark.]

I told you, Bill's influence is supposed to be restricted to the mind. Harmless until you invoke him or strike a deal. We shielded the shack from his influence. That should have been the end of things. [He makes a frustrated noise, rubbing at the bridge of his nose again.] I didn't anticipate this happening.

[oldstandard]

You said it like six seconds ago, and it meant nothing because you didn't provide any context for what that meant. And, great, so whatever you did is useless here. How do we make it not useless here?

[deciphered]

[There's a long silence, and a frustrated one. He hates admitting he doesn't have a solution -- that's who he is, what he does -- but there's no easy answer. Not when he doesn't even know when they're dealing with.]

I don't know. The components were hard enough to acquire when I knew where to find them. And even if we could... there's no way to know it would work.

[oldstandard]

Well, give me a list. If I don't know a guy I probably know a guy who knows a guy.

[deciphered]

[Ford drums his fingers on the table once before seeming to come to a decision. He reaches into his coat and pulls out the first journal flipping through to a certain set of pages before handing it over.]

It's all in here. Shielding spells. There are several, but this one, the one we used on the shack... it's still the best candidate. The materials needed only get more complex from there.

[oldstandard]

When doesn't it?

[Stan takes the journal from him and frowns at the fairly familiar page.] Alright. I'm going to make a few phone calls. From a payphone, these aren't the kind of people I want having a direct line to-- anyway. I'll handle this.