maskormenace | (no subject)

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[On the network is what appears to be a young boy, about 12 or 13 years old. For a moment, he stares quite soulfully at the video output impossibly deep, black eyes, and then pokes at the screen with one fingernail.]

Not even a proper imp in there, how's that for you...?

[He pulls back and mimes clearing his throat. A voice far, far more booming than is fit for the child's face resounds across the feed.]

Right, broadcast. AHEM. This is just a friendly, non-suspicious question, inquiring on when the next coup or violent overthrow of this government is going to be. Not that I'm actually advocating it, I just know you humans really can't resist.

I'm pretty handy with a popcorn machine if anyone can provide good seats.

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[ Normally, that challenge would have raised Kitty's ire, put her back up. But the sight of those kids hanging off him is just too cute; she's already grinning by the time she joins him, coming to stand by his side. ]

Who says I was racing? I never agreed to any race.

[ The small wind blast created by the roc resettling its wings caused one of the climbing kids to tumble with a woop. The childhood resiliency was strong in that one, as they brushed the sand off and rushed right on back up. ]

It was tactically agreed on by way of me issuing a challenge.

Ah, I see.

[ Her eyes crinkle in fond amusement as she settles down to sit beside him, legs curled under her, utterly dwarfed by his enormous bulk. ]

Well, you know that I don't ever abide by the rules that others make for me.

[ The roc settles a little further, its natural warmth a complete buffer to the chill sea breeze. ]

I've noticed. I'm sure they'd make you queen if you asked for it, after that whole mess.

Eugh. What a horrible thought.

[ She wrinkles her nose in disapproval. ]

And it was only a seat on the Council, actually. I'd have slapped someone if they mentioned establishing a monarchy. - Anyway. You owe me some answers.

Very well. Pi by six. One part bleach to nine parts water, agitate well and lay flat to dry. And about 24 miles per hour. 11 meters per second anywhere but Britain.

Those aren't answers. Those are just - random facts.

I can't help it if you aren't asking the appropriate questions.

[ The bird's head angle down to her level. Kitty can see her own reflection clearly in the large, glossy black eye. ]

Well, you haven't even given me a chance to ask yet!

Good point. How good are you with radians?

You know bloody well I haven't any idea what that is.

Well then, I suppose you can get on with your less empirical questions.

Good.

[ But now that she has permission, she's not 100% certain how to proceed. She takes a breath, lets it out, takes one in again, and then finally bursts out with this question (far too vague, far too unfocused) - ]

Are you doing all right?

Er - what?

[ There's a certain way that a bird can cock their head and put it nearly back up into their shoulder blades that is almost comical. ]

What do you mean, what? Are you doing all right.

I wasn't exactly expecting that one.

Yes. I mean, as well as can be expected.

Are you quite sure? You've gone through a lot of crap lately. And all of this has got to be - well. Disorienting.

[ What is this... consideration ........ stuff. The bird stares a long moment, avian features never exactly expressive, but there's almost a blank look to them. ]

I mean, if you want complaints, I've got a list. I've even got proper citations and everything.

[ She's encouraged by that total shock - she thinks that might mean she's getting somewhere. Or, alternatively, it might just mean he thinks she's weird and it's a pointless question and she's wasting her time...Well. Regardless. ]

Go on. Let's hear it.

[ For all of his bluster, the bird doesn't answer immediately. A bit awkwardly he starts,¹ ]

Well, there's going from one shady government, giving a shady deal while at war to another one not looking a wit nicer. [ There's a pause here.² ] Really, I'm vaguely convinced they haven't quite fine tuned the control mechanisms.³ I'm not just talking about me, though, I'm talking about anyone with powers. It completely disrupts the whole balance of all of these countries.⁴ But no one's going to listen to me about that.

[ He seems to get his wind here, and just gets rolling on it. ] On top of that, the Other Place isn't mine, I checked. Which makes it extremely creepy to even be there and what's worse it throws me back out here whenever it feels like it. Like I don't belong there either. The only thing good about it is that I don't hurt like my Essence is on fire.⁵ I assume you're fleshy half of things is keeping you nice and buffered from that.

While I'm at it, I'm going to lodge a formal complaint that the idiot who last contracted me showed up and shoved off without having the common decency to leave a message. "Oh, you were right." wont be in the vocabulary, but I would take a "I owe you one" that means nothing because he's popped off anyway like the fool he is, or even a "thanks" but frankly, I'll settle for some shallow, petty praise.

[ Ah. She had responses to the other things, but the last one throws her for a loop. Because - yes. Yes, that one she understands well. Her eyes drop to her knees, and her throat tightens, and she offers a soft: ]

Yeah. That...I wish he were here, as well.

[ She takes a breath. ]

What's all that about your Other Place, though?

[ He doesn't say anything to that first soft comment. He doesn't have to.

The roc ruffles, as if offended. Enormous feathers go everywhich way. ]

I don't think it's a proper place here. Not the way it should be.

Well - tell me more about it.

[ The bird cocks its head, quizzically. The tone is, for once, more curious than defensively sharp. ]

Which bit?

The Other Place here.