Your name is Diamonds Droog, and you know the show must go on.
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Dependent RP blog for Caliborn's Carnival. NSFW warning for gore, violence, abuse, etc.
By now you've run out of water and swedish fish. You've been holding onto your beef jerky for dear life, but you only have two or three strips left. You know they won't last you long. Damn it.
You still do not have any noticeable illnesses.
All remarkable injuries have healed. Your foot is scarred from where Caliborn hit it with his cane.
Your teeth are terrible and you're gross and grimy. You don't even notice at this point, really. Your suit clings to you and is stiff.
You still have your pen, but you haven't had anyone to communicate with in a while. In fact, you're pretty sure business has been dying. You wonder why Caliborn isn't shoving you all out for money, but you're a little thankful for it. You've had plenty of time to perfect your miming act. You're sure everyone else is being lazy.
[You’re doing your own thing when suddenly you feel hands on your shoulders- huge hands. You jump and whip around, because first of all what the hell, and second of all, ow. You slap any hand that is still on you away, without thinking, and stare in shock at the giant guy in the green suit.]
[You frown as you finish neatly tucking the pen away. What does he think you do around here? A hand is waved, not apparently signifiying anything in particular.]
Belongings-wise, you do not have much left. You have a small medkit, still almost completely full. You also have a single bag of licorice Swedish Fish, with only a handful taken from it (you've been doing wonderful at keeping your food in order, but you're still remarkably hungry). Your bag of jerky is missing three or four pieces, but is otherwise full. Out of the ten water bottles you'd been given, you had four and a half left, with no more having been used as impromptu showers. You hide a pen that you stole from an alternate Matchsticks in your sleeve.
Your habits are dirty and have a dark, gloomy aesthetic. This heavily affects your emotions. You are currently feeling tired and angry, as always.
Your health is, relative to where you are currently, OK. The shell on your foot has almost completely grown back. Your shell has some new scratches and chips, all of which you've done nothing about. A shoulderplate is loose. You do not have any illnesses that you know of. Your teeth need some serious attention.
Your shell and clothes are both grimy and dirty, and the latter has become stiff and uncomfortable.
[You’re doing your own thing when suddenly you feel hands on your shoulders- huge hands. You jump and whip around, because first of all what the hell, and second of all, ow. You slap any hand that is still on you away, without thinking, and stare in shock at the giant guy in the green suit.]
*You find yourself staring at the boy, eyes narrowed and mouth drawn into a straight line. You still do not quite grasp the concept of humans being in your carnival, evidently.*
[A bit taken aback by the sudden appearance of someone just standing there, staring at him, Dave lifts a tentative hand in greeting.] um. hey???? dude. whats up?
[Dave watches his efforts with a quiet, amused snort. He crosses his arms, tilting his head to read what’s written.] droog. am i saying it right?? like drug but ‘ooo’ instead. [He nods a bit to himself, then scuffs the word out with his shoe.] thats cool. sorry about your mouth
[When you hear the snort, you glare at him over your shoulder before continuing. As he speaks, you nod, standing up and watching as he scuffs out your writing. Oddly enough, you're offended, but at the same time it's whatever- the rock is tossed into a nearby bush. You just roll your eyes at his apology. There's nothing anyone can do about it.]
*Droog? Kind? An interesting idea. You shuffle your feet, nodding and shrugging. It's the best you can do for the only one worth any sliver of respect in this shithole.*
She only tilts her head a tad now, wondering if he was acknowledging the compliment or trying to return it. Either way, his dedication to his craft is rather admirable. Not that it’s his only good trait, of course…*
*Damn Dersites. You wait for her to say something, your head lowering- then you nod towards her again. Stuck-up as she is, you're still expecting a thank you.
As soon as you find your way safely to a hiding place, you kneel down and pull the card from your sleeve. The type of card it is is the first thing you notice- two diamonds. You find yourself smirking a little, and then you pause to read the letter. You scan over it- you vaguely remembered how these things worked, but it's nice to make sure. And then, in a somewhat dramatic way, you close your eyes, set the card down and will the stash before you.
And then you open your eyes.
At first, you're taken aback by the sight before you. It's more than you expected- all you asked for was your fish and the jerky he offered, hardly even food. Hell, all you'd expected was a handful or so, maybe a kiddie bag of the licorice.
And that's not even half of it. There's a bottle or two of fresh water, and you realize how dry your mouth is- you give a dry wheeze and reach out to grab one, turning to the First-Aid kit. After opening the bottle and taking a huge gulp, you reach forward and warily pop it open. It's the basics, mostly- good enough for you. You can at least take care of smaller wounds without having to go to Stitch now- yes, that's more than good enough.
You forget that you're drinking and suddenly choke and sputter, spilling a bit of the water and gasping for air afterwards. Okay, you'll have to remember not to drink so quickly. Definitely have to remember that. You glance at the criminal bottle of water for a few seconds, forming an idea in your head, then unceremoniously dumping it over yourself. It's no shower, but it might at least get loose shell pieces and grime from you, and it cools you off and feels surprisingly nice on the small amounts of exposed skin you have, so it's damn near perfect. Plus, it's actual clean water, as opposed to whatever is in the actual showers you rarely get to see.
You wipe your face with a sleeve, though it doesn't do much good drying-wise, considering it's still wet, but it at least clears your vision a little. You look around some more, then reach for the First Aid kit again. You'd better get started teaching yourself how to use this.
A few painful minutes go by as you pull pieces of shell (and flesh, you're pretty sure) from where the cane was smashed into your foot. You hiss and whine, but otherwise don't make a sound until it's got no shards of carapace stabbing into it, and clean away some of the blood before sloppily wrapping it in alcohol-soaked bandages. You probably messed up, but you're also sure you did fine and you'll be alright. Maybe you could master this and you'll almost never need to see Stitch again.
Finally, you grab what you've been waiting for- a huge bag of Swedish fish. You glance around before tearing it open, shoving your hand in and stuffing your face. Handful after handful of black fish is devoured. Eventually, your stomach hurts, and you keep eating- at some point, you absentmindedly notice the tears of joy staining your already wet face, but you ignore them and let them happen. When you finally do finish devouring your fish, you're surprised that not much more than half the bag is gone, but you feel sick from how much you've eaten. With a groan, you reach for the card and put everything away, reaching up to wipe away water and tears with your sleeve again before sliding the into it and closing your eyes.
For the first time in a while, you fall asleep in a relatively good mood.
Dersites probably aren't too uncommon among the circus-goers, so the dersite that approaches Droog probably wasn't too out of place. He gives Droog a polite smile and starts asking for directions to the fortune teller, but as he speaks he subtly slips a card into the mime's hand. A two of diamonds to be precise. A sticky note is attached to it reading: "Innocuous double. Will it to change and you'll have your fish. Good luck.- Shade".
When Droog is approached, he just gives the stranger a careful stare- though as soon as he's handed a card, he realizes who it is. He slides it into his sleeve and nods towards the other Dersite- Shade, apparently- before pointing towards the circus exit. He isn't trying to be an asshole, he just doesn't want him hanging around the place any longer than he needs to. He momentarily wonders if he'll get that jerky, then realizes he probably ought to thank him later on. He'll try and remember that.
*Yeah, yeah. These two really need to learn how to not be so stuck up.
When you're complimented, you pause a bit, then nod towards her, giving her a thumbs up. She's not half bad, herself- and it's not only for what she does, you swear.*
*You find yourself staring at the boy, eyes narrowed and mouth drawn into a straight line. You still do not quite grasp the concept of humans being in your carnival, evidently.*
[A bit taken aback by the sudden appearance of someone just standing there, staring at him, Dave lifts a tentative hand in greeting.] um. hey???? dude. whats up?
[He shrugs philosophically, accepting that answer.] thats chill, dude. thats chill. nothin you can help. do you think you could spell it out in the dirt, though?? thatd help a bit. [He experimentally scuffs at the ground to test how soft the dirt is.]
[You glance down at the ground, scuffing your own foot into it before beginning to walk around in an attempt to find a stick. You find a few twigs, but they snap immediately, and you eventually settle on writing DROOG into the dirt with a rock. The whole time, you look pretty pissed. You're a mime, not a caveman.]
[You’re doing your own thing when suddenly you feel hands on your shoulders- huge hands. You jump and whip around, because first of all what the hell, and second of all, ow. You slap any hand that is still on you away, without thinking, and stare in shock at the giant guy in the green suit.]
*Maybe his tongue is out.* Is it your tongue? Like you have vocal cords, but can’t form sounds? Have you ever heard of sign language. I think it’d be a big help for you. Like here’s a primer for it. *You write down a url and suddenly realize that you had a pen. Wow, you’re a dick.* Haha *nervous chuckle* found you a pen.
*You nod in response to his question about your tongue, and then- again with the sign language shit. You sigh heavily at him, and as soon as you see him take out the pen you give him this soul-melting glare. You aren't really all that nice yourself, evidently. You keep watching him, a hand slowly reaching out for the pen.*
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