Godot (Diego Armando) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
abittertruth) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenace2016-01-04 11:20 pm
abittertruth) wrote in maskormenace2016-01-04 11:20 pm
Entry tags:
- jonathan crane | scarecrow,
- † death the kid | n/a,
- † francis urquhart | n/a,
- † kitty jones | n/a,
- † kotetsu t. kaburagi | wild tiger,
- † lapis lazuli | n/a,
- † miles edgeworth | n/a,
- † olivier armstrong | ice queen,
- † peter quill | star-lord,
- † ray kowalski | n/a,
- † sabriel | abhorsen,
- † sadie doyle | n/a
1st Cup; Backdated to Jan 2 [VIDEO]
[A video.
A man in a mask. Not your general 'I'm some kind of a hero/villain/vigilante' mask, but a mask nonetheless.
Godot is positioned with his jaw resting on one fist, 'regarding' the screen through the red lights of his visor. His jaw is set firm, his mouth half a grin--but he doesn't look entirely like he's smiling. Once he's sure it's on, he removes his chin from his hand and sits back.]
Well, isn't this a fine how-do-you-do.
They sure know how to make an offer you can't refuse, don't they? Free housing, free medical... all you have to do is sign on the dotted line.
Fine then. So be it! The harsh winds of fate are cold enough to freeze a man to his very bones. They blow sharp and bitter, like the blackest dregs at the bottom of a cup of coffee.
But if your coffee is ice cold by the time you get to that bottom... you've already wasted it.
[He looks... grim. Maybe he's trying to say something with that line? Sure would help if this man spoke regular English.
Well, good luck out there.]
A man in a mask. Not your general 'I'm some kind of a hero/villain/vigilante' mask, but a mask nonetheless.
Godot is positioned with his jaw resting on one fist, 'regarding' the screen through the red lights of his visor. His jaw is set firm, his mouth half a grin--but he doesn't look entirely like he's smiling. Once he's sure it's on, he removes his chin from his hand and sits back.]
Well, isn't this a fine how-do-you-do.
They sure know how to make an offer you can't refuse, don't they? Free housing, free medical... all you have to do is sign on the dotted line.
Fine then. So be it! The harsh winds of fate are cold enough to freeze a man to his very bones. They blow sharp and bitter, like the blackest dregs at the bottom of a cup of coffee.
But if your coffee is ice cold by the time you get to that bottom... you've already wasted it.
[He looks... grim. Maybe he's trying to say something with that line? Sure would help if this man spoke regular English.
Well, good luck out there.]
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That's too bad.
[Is he talking about the tea or the temperature?]
Long before humans discovered coffee, ancient people began to brew drinks with leaves from a certain plant. Even back then, humanity looked for answers to the universe in the bottoms of their cups.
But there's no prophecy to be found there. The inside of the cup reflects one thing: the human heart.
[And so.]
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Although the human heart, for all its frailties, can be a powerful thing.
But enough with metaphors. Let me assure you that everything they've said, about powers, other universes, nanites, time flowing oddly between worlds- they're all true.
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Fine. He'll drop them. For a few sentences, at the very least.]
Oh, don't worry. I read the folio. Cover to cover, in fact. But it doesn't matter.
They've picked a poor excuse for a hero... in more ways than one.
All the free medical treatment in the world won't give this old hunk of junk enough get up and go for that.
[As for the other ways... well. The human heart is a frail thing, isn't it?]
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Well, as normal as you can be with supernatural abilities.
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[Is that bitterness in his voice? Yes. Yes it is. A lot of it.
But it's followed swiftly by the usual litany of casual self-deprecation. No bitterness here but the kind in his cup.]
But there's no need to worry your pretty head about me.
I may've given up all hope at 'ordinary' life a long time ago, but this ship's on her last legs. This rusted heap couldn't get up to any mischief if it wanted to.
[Yes, he read the folio, and he's seen what he could get up to. But just because his body--and spirit? he knows how he feels about the former, but he's still not sure how he feels about the other--could theoretically get up to something now... doesn't mean his heart has anything left to give. Action is worthless if there's no heart behind it.]
...and just between you and me, I was all ready to have her scuttled and sunk for good before this Porter nonsense came along.
[And there's that bitterness again. Someone's salty about being alive.
But of course, that's exactly why Sabriel has nothing to worry about. A man waiting for death is not a man looking to make trouble for the living.]
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Everyone and everything has a time to die. But between the nanites, healers, and this world's grasp of medicine? Your time probably won't come until you're Ported out. I'm not even sure if imPorts can enter this world's afterlife.
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Now he wonders just how far this medical science can go.]
Let's hope not.
But fine--it seems that Death and I will have to postpone our reunion.
[He knows he shouldn't feel cheated--but he does. He feels cheated and angry and maybe even a little sad, not that he'd ever admit it. Bitter, though--bitter he can admit to.
But not here.]
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Until then, why not enjoy the time you have? [Death wanted people to enjoy life, from the conversations Sabriel had had with the Endless.]
This world tends to be interesting, in more ways than one.
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But when last we met, we were rudely interrupted. Let's just say I left her wanting more, and she I.
[With that, he leans back, running one hand backwards through his thick white hair. It's hard to see with his eyes covered as they are, but he's tired--very tired.]
Which is to say I'm all out of life, but our lady Fate keeps decreeing I have more time.
[Time and time and time again.]
But--
[His grin returns, broad and with plenty of tooth. Apparently he's a man unable to kept down by such weighty matters as life and death.]
That's one less miscreant for you to worry about, am I right?
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Hopefully. The Dead are aren't above causing trouble here, though.
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[What.]
...nope.
[Nope.
He doesn't even know how to respond to that. What the hell do you even say?
'No, but my dead girlfriend's family could channel the spirits of the dead' doesn't quite fit, but it's about all he's got.]
Raising the dead is a little outta my area of expertise. Where I'm from, you call anyone who can do that a 'doctor.'
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[Sabriel gives him a wry grin.]
Although my particular form of the art is concerned with making sure the Dead pass on, rather than dragging them out of their graves.
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[They could have used someone like you, back where he was from. They had mediums to channel the dead, but someone who could make sure dead troublemakers could stayed dead and out of trouble... that would have been worth its weight in gold.]
The dead have no business being up and walking around.
Nothing but trouble, the lot of them.
[He returns her wry grin with a smirk of his own.
Maybe not entirely out of your hair, then.]
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Still, this world doesn't have this problem to the same extent my home does. But it has... several other problems, many of them involving imPorts, one way or another.
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[No eating people, thankfully. The vengeful dead in his world tend to commit murder the old-fashioned way.]
But I'm afraid all your coy hinting will earn you little profit here.
We agreed the dead need to keep their place--and I know mine.
[Which--if not in the grave--is at least out of the way of decent living folks like her. Necromancer or not.
His bed will have to be a good enough substitute for now.]
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Ha...! Well-repaired, you mean.
I'm a sight better outside than I am inside, or so I hear. Haven't really had the privilege of taking a look inside myself.
[He kind of hoped to keep it that way, really.]
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Or do you mean you're simply in poor health?
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...any more.
But instead of telling her to slow down on the death metre like a sane person, what Godot chooses to say instead is:]
Do beans twice-brewed produce the same beverage on their second drip?
Or is the hot and bitter mug reduced to a pale imitation of the real thing?
[In short: he's in terrible health, physical and otherwise--but he is alive.
Whether he likes it or not, he's alive.
Whether or not he's successful in communicating it is another matter.]
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Understatement of the decade. But fine. He's observant enough to know when people are getting sick of him. It's just a matter of whether or not he elects to care.
This time, though, Sabriel spares him the choice by making her intentions clearer.]
A pulse I've got.
[Godot isn't hiding anything, Sabriel. You just have to ask the right question.]
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I'd be careful with metaphors, if I were you. There are people here who have a rather literal connection to death.
But let me introduce myself. My name is Sabriel.
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Godot.
Charmed.
[There's that grin again, cutting a sharp, toothy path across his face.]
And since you've been so kind as to give me a word of advice, I'll return the favour: I'd be careful about assumptions, if I were you.
[Unsolicited advice is not a good way to make yourself popular with strangers, you know.
Just because he used one metaphor doesn't mean it's all been one.
Then he pauses, and--on the spur of the moment--miraculously levels out:]
There's a hell of a lot I don't know about what's going on here, and there's plenty you know that I don't. That's fine!
I'm no necromancer, and I'm no spirit medium, either.
[Oh, was that a clue? How generous of him.]
But the science of man has marched far enough along that death is, once in a very great while, a lot less permanent than it was rightfully meant to be. A man can have a pulse and still be dead--or have been dead--and no one but him the wiser.
No one but him and the army it takes to keep him walking.
[A truly herculean medical effort, wasted on someone as feckless as him.
What was the world coming to?]
What I'm saying is this: I don't know what you know, and you don't know what I know.
So ask your questions straight, kitten, or it's no one's fault but yours when you misunderstand the answers.
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I had no idea your health was so fragile. Please, take care of yourself. [It's partially condescending (Se didn't like being called 'kitten') and partially sincere. Sabriel generally wants to protect people, even if they're assholes.]
But I'll make sure to ask whether you're being metaphorical next time.
[GODOT WHY]
But just one.
That said, if Sabriel is going to get upset every time she gets called some kind of nickname, she's going to have a lot of aggravation in her future.]
Don't apologise. A pretty girl has no need for modesty.
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