"How delightful to see you! According to this little game, I'm Mischievous Painter. But, you can call me Caspian. A pleasure."
𓂃⋆.˚ caspian tseng is 26 y/o , and is a trans man ! he uses he / him exclusively, and is pansexual.
he's wasian (chinese - american(?) ), and is bilingual in both mandarin and english.
𓂃⋆.˚ as assumed by his "role", caspian presents teasing and mischievous in the eyes of others. he can be sarcastic, and insults or banters with others with sweet/honey-coated tones and musings. capsian seems to be very lighthearted, and wants (to try) to make things lighter and fun.
though, it seems that this act is an attempt of deflecting his feelings, and a means of distraction. beneath that is a patient caring man. he is most definitely a deeper thinker than he presents, and skeptical about others despite his disposition.
𓂃⋆.˚ super open to be shipped with anyone. while mod ships caspian with vega or benny personally, he's super shippable in my opinion! no need to ask; if he appeals to you, go wild! both original and canon characters are open to interact and ship <3.
𓂃⋆.˚ i will match your roleplay style! from semi-lit, to literate, to asterisks - and anything in between - this blog will adjust to fit your style <3.
𓂃⋆.˚ please keep in mind that mod (@penaconys-princess ) is both an adult and a system! my memory is dookie, and suggestive topics may pop up once in a while!
futher oc info will be below the cut !
( content warning for : attempted robbery , self-sacrifice of a parent. )
𓂃⋆.˚ by “honeyed insulted/words”, i take full inspiration from the line delivery from the song “beauty school drop-out” from grease ! blaine from glee is also totally also a voice claim for caspian .
𓂃⋆.˚ his luck motif is bats ! if I remember correctly, bats represent good luck and good fortune in china! and i think it fits him a lot :)
𓂃⋆.˚ lore-wise, caspian is around vega, poppy, and corbyn the most. he has a major soft s spot for those three, and anyone associated with them.
𓂃⋆.˚ my ass can NOT draw , but do expect a few fics of caspian being posted on here . or, promo posts/links to my ao3 with fics for him :).
𓂃⋆.˚ his natural hair colour is black . he likes to dye his hair to reflect a muse/inspiration, or at least, try and get *some* kind of idea for what he does. he does take good care of his hair, however.
𓂃⋆.˚ caspian has a habit of drawing on himself as well. mostly to relieve stress, or distract his mind from something. prior to being on bet and forgive, it was also something he did for art inspiration.
𓂃⋆.˚ he’s so easy to make laugh — he even makes himself laugh. dumb jokes, or banter (or even snide/snarky remarks towards someone) will make caspian cackle.
𓂃⋆.˚ he is a flirty person toward people he’s interested in. but also, he’s so patient and lenient for their own attraction to him. he would wait forever just for a chance to go out with someone. he’s still persistent, however, and will still shoot his shot.
backstory -
(this is super condensed, opting only to focus on *why* caspian is on "bet to forgive". a large oc form is in the works for him.)
a fairly well-revered artist, caspian tseng was a painter known for his emotionally intense and thought provoking paintings. most of his inspirations seem to be "sudden", or almost "nonsensical" (such as coming form dreams). or occasionally, inspired by historical (or horrific) events in today's society. his paintings often sold for high amounts, and he was praised by many for his interpretations.
he isn't someone "snobby", or hoity-toity about his work. caspian prefers to remain self-confident to be proud of his paintings, while still humble enough to accept praise and offers/commissions when given. he's not his father, after all, some sort of self-obsessed actor that left his family during caspian's middle-school years.
caspian also adores musicals and stage plays. while he always wanted to be a part of one, his mother believed those to be for folk "less talented", or for snobby people. nonetheless, during his time in an art school, caspian found the time to star in a few unofficial productions during high school. he had played as kenikie and teen angel twice - in his sophomore and senior years respectively.
caspian was convicted of second-degree murder and tampering with a crime scene/evidence during one night where a robber broke in and attempted to rob his and his mother's house. due to the ail, older woman sleeping on the couch, she was a potential target to be harmed.
coincidentally, caspian was awake one night working on one of his pieces when he heard someone break into his and his mother's home. it was then when he had scrambled to his closet to pull out an old, wooden bat. it was small - he hadn't played sports since he was young -, but he deemed it was effective enough.
he would end up sneaking downstairs to get close enough behind the robber, and swing at the man's head in an attempt to render him unconscious.
at least, that was the plan. whether it was out of a means of adrenaline or anxiety, caspian kept swinging. and swinging. it wasn't until the man saw blood did his mother scream did he stop and panic. the robber was bleeding on their carpet, his head a mess.
both adults being quite frazzled by the situation, it was caspian's mother's idea to take care of the body. she had suggested to a panicking caspian that they had to hide it somewhere. outside of the house, ideally. deciding that she had to have had his best interest in mind, he had agreed, and (clumsily) forced the man's body into a couple of garbage bags.
if only the next door neighbour they had wasn't so nosy. as caspian and his mother were hauling the body out of the house, two police vehicles had pulled into their driveway, their headlights shining on two bloodied adults, and a bagged corpse in their hands. it seemed like the police acted faster than either had expected. both caspian and his mother were apprehended that night, with his mother being convicted as an accessory to murder, and tampering with a crime scene/corpse.
it was four months later when caspian had the idea of signing both himself and his mother up for "bet and forgive". he didn't want to see his mother spending the rest of her days in a prison cell, and caspian himself did not want to waste the rest of his "best years" in jail. after convincing the woman to sign up with him (which... took about a month; much longer than he wanted to admit), the pair were signed up to the show, as an attempt to prove their innocence. caspian felt guilty about having his mother roped into such a thing in the first place. and besides, he shouldn't be guilty about such a thing! it's not his fault someone tried to break into his home!
when the pair of mother and son were paired against one another in roulette, however, the woman didn't want to have to put her son through the turmoil of the potential of only one of them winning in this entire show. therefore, she forfeited from the match, intentionally making herself lose while saying that she "forgot how to play".
with her final words being that of telling caspian to "live" and "forgive her", miss tseng was eliminated before the man.
the sight was a mess; it still horrifies and hurts caspian if he's to talk about it. he still sees it in the back of his mind, if he thinks too much. but, he doesn't want to let her final wish go in vain.
caspian wants to live. and he'll make sure that he will, all while playing the role he was assigned.
[They've been standing nearby for an awkward amount of time before speaking]
"So uh.. did they call you a painter? That's kinda cool."
- @inspirational-klutz
Please excuse my son he's autistic
Caspian jumps slightly in mild shock before turning to face Arbour. A light chuckle brushes past his lips as he waves a hand.
"It was merely my occupation. Your words are very kind, nonetheless.. Thank you" He shrugs as he slinks closer to the other contestant. A lopsided smile then takes place on Caspian's lips. "And yet, they call you a klutz? Not that I expect the producers to be ethical, but couldn't they choose something more... unbiased? Non-judgemental, even?"
[This is clearly something that pisses them off to an irrational degree]
"They basically just decided to call me disabled two times over, and they didn't even have the balls to actually use the word disabled. And like I understand 'Klutz' is shorter than ', active fucking fall risk' but–"
"Surely there's more to me than that."
[They take a breath.]
"I hate the role name. A lot. I much prefer being called Arbour. That's my name."
Sprites are for people who can go to bed when they intend to, so I'm skipping out on them at least for rn. I meant to wait till morning to do this. It is not morning. I'm scheduling this so hopefully I'm actually asleep by the time it posts
Caspian slowly nods along, paying attention to their angered words. “How revolting of the media. I didn’t think they’d stoop so low. My condolences.” His usual smile is shifted to a sneer when addressing the fact that, well, dehumanizing term used for them. His gaze then softens greatly. “Rest assured, I agree with you. There’s more to people than their moniker.”
It’s when they introduce themself with their proper name, does Caspian smile once more. “And it’s a lovely name indeed.” The painter extends a hand to Arbour, his expression much more softer and sincere than the ‘mischievous’ mask he wore. “I’m Caspian. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“What a coincidence! I also picked my own name.” Chuckling, he firmly shakes their hand before receding the appendage.
There’s a mild exasperated sound that comes from Caspian in response to Arbour’s question . “It’s … adrenaline-inducing, to say the least. I’m not as knowledgeable about this show as my ‘Ma. Didn’t think it’d be so high stakes so early on.” A weak laugh bubbles from his lips before continuing. “Though, I’m paired with a relatively helpful group. Their company is lovely, too. Makes it all more tolerable.”
He pushes a loose strand or two back from invading his vision, arching a brow. “What about yourself? I hope this place isn’t giving you that much of a hard time.” There’s genuinely to his albeit lighthearted tone weaved within his words. “Has that bunny-eared brat harassed you at all?”
"Yeah, I never really watched this shit either. I'd get glimpses of it when they'd have it on in doctors' waiting rooms, but I never really paid attention."
[They think for a moment]
"And well, if he's said anything to me I didn't register it. It took me a bit to recover after the preliminaries, I didn't really know what was happening."
[They suddenly seem to find the floor incredibly interesting, as that's where their vision is locked.]
“The preliminaries were a doozy, I can… agree with you that.” Caspian’s voice cracks slightly after his pause, his own gaze flickering to the same floor Arbour was looking at for just a moment.
It’s there does his gaze jump back up. At them, falling into a sympathetic expression. “Are you still out of it?” His voice seems to sound gentler, moreso concerned over the other adult. “I could flag over the bartender for some water, if you’d like.”
"Anything from musicals, really. Broadway, West-End, more underground ones - I adore them all." Caspian's eyes seem to light up at his own mention of musicals. Perhaps he enjoys them!
"Beauty-School Dropout is a personal go-to. For Her or Dream Lover are also personal favourites of mine."
He then shrugs. "If you want more, ahem, mainstream songs, I do enjoy Nine in the Afternoon. Or that one long Fall-Out Boy title. The one about a Headfirst Slide, or something? It's easier for me to follow."
His eyes widen in surprise at the question. As for his arms, they slowly stand by his sides.
"How forward of you!" Caspian's eyes dart away from the anon for a split second, then back at them. "Ahem, I'm afraid not. Sorry to disappoint!"
"If so many people are asking, I'd go to lengths to say that you're deflecting, Mister King~." Caspian purrs as he props himself up against a table. Persistent little thing this guy was. "Y'got to have someone that catches your eye! Even dazzling, pretentious, self-absorbed gentlemen like yourself aren't immune to attraction."
He pretends to think for a moment, before grinning wolfishly. "Should you tell him that yourself? Or should I drag you around the cast, and see who you look at a little too meaningfully?"
"Buuut, I'm nosy. And it's fun to annoy you, or so I've heard." With a moreso cheeky grin, Caspian shrugs. "Awh, why do you hate the old dog? Or are you one of those weirdos with tier lists of people they hate."
"If so many people are asking, I'd go to lengths to say that you're deflecting, Mister King~." Caspian purrs as he props himself up against a table. Persistent little thing this guy was. "Y'got to have someone that catches your eye! Even dazzling, pretentious, self-absorbed gentlemen like yourself aren't immune to attraction."
He pretends to think for a moment, before grinning wolfishly. "Should you tell him that yourself? Or should I drag you around the cast, and see who you look at a little too meaningfully?"
“Lady Peacock.” Caspian slides onto a nearby barstool, a beverage in each hand as he shoots Iris a light, yet friendly smile. Even if they haven’t talked much — or before, quite frankly — , it didn’t hurt to at least make himself somewhat approachable. Moreso, approach Iris himself.
“Care for a drink? You might need it, especially after tonight’s… events.” The dual-haired painter slid a glass in her direction, the liquid swirling within the cup. For a moment, something softer flashes on his face. Despite his role as “mischievous”, there was an authentic, more sympathetic expression on his face. “How are you faring? Are you well?”
( @mischeviouspainter )
"Oh well aren't you a charmer. Offering a lady a drink on the house like that. How considerate,"
"And I am fairing quite nicely at the moment Mr. Painter. What about you? Have you been doing okay yourself? "
There's a small flash of a grin at the compliment, as Caspian laughs lightly, and props his head up upon one of his hands. "A lady without a drink is like a cat without a mouse. Terribly cruel, if you ask me." The dual-haired man from his own drink - something cherry related ; he didn't remember the name.
Seemingly relieved by her more positive status, Caspian nods once, his posture relaxing significantly. "How wonderful to hear! It's nice to see someone not too overwhelmed for once. Or paranoid." A light sigh, something mixed between partial fondness and half-exhaustion leaves him, before continuing. "Ah, I'm quite well, thank you. I didn't think Mister King would allow contestants to have such... downtime."
[Iris chuckled at the comparison, it was very fitting and catchy turn of phrase. She took the drink and sipped it softly with a smile.] "Being paranoid and anxious constantly is exhausting and well... it give you wrinkles~"
"And as for Beau, well they only get specific air time hours and such— and well too much death in a short time may make the viewers at home either squeamish or see how bad the show is deep down, reminding them we are real living humans... not characters in fiction."
Caspian slowly nods along, paying rather close attention to Iris’ words. He can’t help the slight grow in his smile as she addresses the show’s host with such a nickname. It’s endearing, really. “You’re implying that those watching see us as… hm, subhuman in a way?” Was this the proper word? Bear with him; unlike his late mother, Caspian didn’t truly watch Bet and Forgive.
“You do have a point, m’lady. In the end, I suppose it allows us to try to process the situation.” He agrees with a curt nod, followed by another - now longer - sip. “That unfortunate truth makes much more sense than Starboy’s ramblings.”
"It's best to keep a level head about all of this and also to enjoy every second you still have left. As the eldest contestant here, I don't want to spend my remaining time alive panicking about the show. I applied for it... so I shouldn't be surprised."
The practiced smile falters into a sense of, hm, wonder? No, no. It had to have been some sort of awe. Awe for how she was so accepting about this. Cocking a brow, his lips ripple upwards in a more relaxed position.
"You're wise, Lady Songstress. I'll live on by that. You sound like my 'Ma, or one of those 'wine aunt's." There's a faint 'huh', as if met with realization. Curiosity walks into the bar again, rearing it's nose in once more. "Do you not miss what you had before at all? Ah, if I'm not overstepping, that is."
"That's the goal, deary~! I want people to see me as the type of lady you can approach even despite my status! I want people to see as someone to confide in. Like a mother or aunt or hell— even a kind grandmother! "
[Iris stirred her drink a little more before sipping it once again.]
"As for is I miss my old life... y-yes and no. I miss singing for people and being on stage with the intentions of performing or being on camera to model or pose... I miss that all dearly, alongside seeing the many faces that looked up to me and saw me as a role model..."
"But... it also reminds me also of the sides they didnt know and the reason I don't miss it... I am done with men viewing me as an object everytime I attended a huge party or celebrity event, etcetera... being looked at like some sort of woman that they can hand off to the next big spender..."
"But I'm happy here... even it it means im going to die. I'm free here of directors, agents, restrictions and well... the only gaze I'm getting aside from a few contestants is the eyes of the man my heart seems to long for... and that's okay with me..."
[Replies to old posts won't be affected by the anon magic.]
"You are anything but an item meant to be sold to the highest bidder. I swear, men can't enjoy something without eyeing it like the next 'big thing', or an investment to be made." For a moment, Caspian's words sound harsher and disgusted. He knew there were men out there who were money-oriented, and yet, he's still repulsed by their actions. "You didn't deserve that treatment. My condolences, sincerely."
Though, it washes away when Iris speaks on being happy in this game, even with the possibility of her death. "It sounds peaceful, For such a lavish cage, you almost make this place sound like paradise." Caspian takes a long sip from his half-empty glass before swirling it. "No restrictions, sheer freedom - I'm a little jealous, really." The painter chuckles lightly. "But, I'm glad that you've found your peace here. Maybe some others might follow suit."
With a light, playful nudge, he then shoots Iris a cheeky grin. "Besides, maybe you'll find yourself in something more than Mister King's good graces, and gazes. If... you catch my drift~."
[They've been standing nearby for an awkward amount of time before speaking]
"So uh.. did they call you a painter? That's kinda cool."
- @inspirational-klutz
Please excuse my son he's autistic
Caspian jumps slightly in mild shock before turning to face Arbour. A light chuckle brushes past his lips as he waves a hand.
"It was merely my occupation. Your words are very kind, nonetheless.. Thank you" He shrugs as he slinks closer to the other contestant. A lopsided smile then takes place on Caspian's lips. "And yet, they call you a klutz? Not that I expect the producers to be ethical, but couldn't they choose something more... unbiased? Non-judgemental, even?"
[This is clearly something that pisses them off to an irrational degree]
"They basically just decided to call me disabled two times over, and they didn't even have the balls to actually use the word disabled. And like I understand 'Klutz' is shorter than ', active fucking fall risk' but–"
"Surely there's more to me than that."
[They take a breath.]
"I hate the role name. A lot. I much prefer being called Arbour. That's my name."
Sprites are for people who can go to bed when they intend to, so I'm skipping out on them at least for rn. I meant to wait till morning to do this. It is not morning. I'm scheduling this so hopefully I'm actually asleep by the time it posts
Caspian slowly nods along, paying attention to their angered words. “How revolting of the media. I didn’t think they’d stoop so low. My condolences.” His usual smile is shifted to a sneer when addressing the fact that, well, dehumanizing term used for them. His gaze then softens greatly. “Rest assured, I agree with you. There’s more to people than their moniker.”
It’s when they introduce themself with their proper name, does Caspian smile once more. “And it’s a lovely name indeed.” The painter extends a hand to Arbour, his expression much more softer and sincere than the ‘mischievous’ mask he wore. “I’m Caspian. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“What a coincidence! I also picked my own name.” Chuckling, he firmly shakes their hand before receding the appendage.
There’s a mild exasperated sound that comes from Caspian in response to Arbour’s question . “It’s … adrenaline-inducing, to say the least. I’m not as knowledgeable about this show as my ‘Ma. Didn’t think it’d be so high stakes so early on.” A weak laugh bubbles from his lips before continuing. “Though, I’m paired with a relatively helpful group. Their company is lovely, too. Makes it all more tolerable.”
He pushes a loose strand or two back from invading his vision, arching a brow. “What about yourself? I hope this place isn’t giving you that much of a hard time.” There’s genuinely to his albeit lighthearted tone weaved within his words. “Has that bunny-eared brat harassed you at all?”
“Mm, Starboy.” Caspian lightly taps the (former) cosmologist on the shoulder, before leaning onto the table beside her. There’s a faint smile on his lips as he looks at his, well, group mate. For someone who played into the “mischevious” role the show gave him, the painter looked more sincere.
“There’s another chance to look around the morgue. We can scour around in there, if you want.” The dual-haired man tilted his head slightly over to the (rather inconvenient) entrance to the morgue from before. His eyes then glance over at the nearby wall behind the bar counter, then back at her. “Or, I could make you a little something. I’ve been told I can make a mean cosmopolitan.” Caspian offers with a light laugh.
( @mischeviouspainter )
>[He snapped around to look at you when you tapped her shoulder, relaxed a fraction at seeing a somewhat familiar face. Trustworthy is another thing, but for now familiar will do.]
"Don't call me that. And there is zero chance you're getting me in that morgue. This place is highly monitored—we could get caught, and who knows what would happen to us then?!"
"Personally, I'd prefer to choose neither of these options. However, I presume I'm forced to choose? If so, I'm less resistant to the second one. But I can't promise I'll actually drink it, you could put anything in that thing..."
Rather than cut her off, or tease him about his word choices, Caspian simply nods along. He's rather patient, seemingly lenient with them. It's not like Vega was wrong; the idea about what'd happen if both of them were caught was a terrifying one. There went that idea out the window.
But, as she chose the latter, an amused (and quite frankly, surprised) expression made its way onto the painter's face.
"I didn't think you'd agree to either of those. Cosmopolitan it is, then!" A light laugh bubbles from the painter as he hops over the plants a hand on the top of the bar counter, and hops over it with a soft grunt.
Once he lands, the dual-haired man is quick to look around the area and move, grasping mixing cups at first, followed by cranberry and lime juices.
Once grabbing hold of the orange liqueur, Caspian turns back to face Vega, and places the ingredients nearby. Rather than turning his back to her, it seems that he's showing the process to her. It's then when his eyes glance over to a nearby vodka bottle and grimaces. That did not look like a very... nice color of alcohol.
"I'm not putting that shit in. It looks uh. Possessed. Diseased. Cooties. Eugh." The painter laughs at his own remark, seemingly tickled by his own choice of words. "I can use tonic water instead. Or sprite. Unless you want alcohol?" He offers, his expression becoming sincere once more. "I'll have what you're having, if it makes you feel more comfortable. I'll even sugar-rim the glass, too."
[She watched with attention, checking each hand movement, any powers or unlabeled bottles. None of the sort came about.]
[He had to admit, the process was fascinating to watch. However, her guard didn't falter; gaze occasionally flickering from the bottles to the painter's face, checking for any signs of malicious intent.]
"I don't think that's meant to be that colour. Do you reckon they're spiking the drinks or something?"
[She shivered, turning her head away.]
"Sprite will do. I don't want any risk of getting drunk, that is the one state where I have no choice over what I say. No thank you, not in this place. I'll pass on the sugar too, if possible. I don't know what powder could be mixed in with it."
“I’d argue it’s some kind of fermentation. Maybe a careless employee?” Caspian’s mouth angles into a pointed frown as he kneels down nearby, reaching into a small fridge to get a bottle of Sprite. With a hum, he pours the Soda into one of the mixing cups, then closes it with the top cup. “I’ve had spiked drinks back in art school. Usually it’s not such a… blatant color.”
Just like that, Caspian shakes the concoction between the two mixing utensils, nodding along with Vega’s remarks. Still, he chuckles lightly at her brief mention of drunken self. “No way, you too? I can’t control my words when drunk. My ‘ma used to tell me to pipe down whenever I had too much.” With an over exaggerated eyeroll, the painter signs fondly. “She never liked my drunken singing either. I couldn’t have sounded that bad.”
Assuming he had mixed the cocktail (well, mocktail) enough, Caspian removed the top cup, and reached for a couple of martini glasses — and opted to avoid rimmed sugar, per Vega’s request. Placing them on the tabletop, he poured the beverage in with ease, before sliding a glass to the other. “There we go~! All yours, Starboy.”
Quickly putting away both the bottled soda, along with moving those juices back where they were, Caspian swiftly returned to the side of the bar table Vega was on, and hopped up on a barstool. “To figuring out the odd shit in this place?” He muses, tilting his glass to the other’s as a means to cheers the paranoid man.
"I've only ever been drunk once. Never again. It was a Christmas party a few years back. I was told everything I'd done afterwards and never again."
[She took the drink and inspected it, giving it a hesitant sip. He had to hide the satisfaction on her face.]
"I suppose it doesn't taste too bad, i applaud you. And again, don't call me that."
"Yes, I've been quite busy in that regard. So many contestants, not enough places for me to jot everything down, theories easily disproven by clear evidence."
[He lifted his glass to clink with yours, a trill humming through the air.]
“You can be fun and nice? Keeping me on my toes, aren’t you?” The painter chuckles, and gently nudges Vega in a good-natured sense. Something lit up in Caspian’s gaze as Vega’s praise graced him, followed by the sight of her hidden satisfaction. “I’m honoured that you like it. Thank you.” His head then tilts curiously. “Do you not like being called that? I’d argue it’s fitting, you know.”
He leans against the tabletop rather comfortably, his chin rested upon his palm. “You’re kind of like the stars. So distant, yet so captivating.”
It’s when Vega mentions their theories does Caspian perk up. Rather than any annoyance or exhaustion, he can’t help but be intrigued. “What’s been disproven this time? What exactly have you been thinking?” An eyebrow arches up, as his smile shifts into something more curious and conspiratorial. “It’s much more healthier to share rather than keep it or yourself. I like your thought process, too.”
"I don't associate myself with cosmology anymore. It wasn't my calling, and these producers are mocking me with this costume."
"I wouldn't call myself captivating either. I've been described as moreso.. standoffish, or arrogant. I don't mind, as long as narrow minded people stay away."
[You couldn't help but notice the flicker of excitement in her eyes when you showed intrigue in her theories.]
"I've been researching into Cecilia and Cobyn as of late. Try to find something that proves why they aren't quite as hostile as everyone else here—other than titles, I don't have much to go off of. 'Heartless' gives me a scrap of something, but not enough to prove an ulterior motive. And Cobyn... There's nothing! He truly cannot be so passive when he's a criminal!"
"I'd ask them for their crimes, but I doubt that they'd ever tell me. Either of them. It's rude, and could break any trust between us, and I need that not only for gathering evidence, but also winning."
"Now I see. Sorry. I wasn't aware." Despite his antics, he's quick to apologize before continuing on. There's a hint of... something close to digsust when she mentions close-mindedness in people.
"Hah, I think simple-minded fits them more. If they can't expand their own views, or change perspective, I don't think they're..." Caspian trails off, trying to find some more-fitting words to add to his point. "Not unintelligent, but... immature in a way?"
That flash of excitement causes a soft smile to flash upon his lips once more. It's endearing; Caspian's glad he's stuck around Vega this long. Bobbing his head along, his brows furrow while paying attention to her aforementioned research.
"Miss Cecilia reminds me of those titular 'femme fatales', if that makes sense. I feel she's playing hard into the role given to her. Keeping things under wraps until disaster, or a compromising conflict. As kind as she is, I can't help but think she's plotting." There's a huff that follows after, as if he was stumped by his own thoughts. "If she's as 'Heartless' as her moniker suggests, there's no way in hell she'd spill about her crime."
Upon mentioning Corbyn, there's a light laugh as Vega mentions the gardeners passiveness. Not out of a means to scrutinize, but of mild amusement. "Oh, I think Corbyn's simple. Respectfully, but I feel he's a bit too trusting. Like a duckling, y'know. Though, I wouldn't go as far to say he's unable to act on his accord."
With another huff in thought, the painter rubs his temple while glancing down at the tabletop. "Part of me thinks that building further rapport with either of them might be a gateway for information. But, I doubt the Maiden will sway so easily unlike Corbyn." His eyes then bounce back at Vega. "I wouldn't mind going to bat for you. Weaseling my way into their good graces."
Raising a hand in a surrendering position, Capsian adds. "No catch. No strings attached. I want to figure these people out, and get out of here. By 'winning', or any alternative means."
[They've been standing nearby for an awkward amount of time before speaking]
"So uh.. did they call you a painter? That's kinda cool."
- @inspirational-klutz
Please excuse my son he's autistic
Caspian jumps slightly in mild shock before turning to face Arbour. A light chuckle brushes past his lips as he waves a hand.
"It was merely my occupation. Your words are very kind, nonetheless.. Thank you" He shrugs as he slinks closer to the other contestant. A lopsided smile then takes place on Caspian's lips. "And yet, they call you a klutz? Not that I expect the producers to be ethical, but couldn't they choose something more... unbiased? Non-judgemental, even?"
[This is clearly something that pisses them off to an irrational degree]
"They basically just decided to call me disabled two times over, and they didn't even have the balls to actually use the word disabled. And like I understand 'Klutz' is shorter than ', active fucking fall risk' but–"
"Surely there's more to me than that."
[They take a breath.]
"I hate the role name. A lot. I much prefer being called Arbour. That's my name."
Sprites are for people who can go to bed when they intend to, so I'm skipping out on them at least for rn. I meant to wait till morning to do this. It is not morning. I'm scheduling this so hopefully I'm actually asleep by the time it posts
Caspian slowly nods along, paying attention to their angered words. “How revolting of the media. I didn’t think they’d stoop so low. My condolences.” His usual smile is shifted to a sneer when addressing the fact that, well, dehumanizing term used for them. His gaze then softens greatly. “Rest assured, I agree with you. There’s more to people than their moniker.”
It’s when they introduce themself with their proper name, does Caspian smile once more. “And it’s a lovely name indeed.” The painter extends a hand to Arbour, his expression much more softer and sincere than the ‘mischievous’ mask he wore. “I’m Caspian. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
"It's not everyday someone can speak to a serial killer." Caspian leans across a table, an arched eyebrow on the painter's features, following an intrigued smile. He and Hierax pair were in the same group - that being with Corbyn, Poppy, and Vega. It was fair to at least make some sort of acquaintance with the other contestant. At least, in Caspian's eyes.
"Hope you don't mind me taking up some space. I'm just awfully fascinated." There's a lighthearted purr in Caspian's voice as he pulls over a chair with his leg, then sits down in front of Hierax. It's then when he slides a drink over to it.
"I gotta ask. Did you work with anyone?" What a sudden question; he really wasn't hesitating, was he? It was then when he clears his throat, and clarifies. "Not like I'm doubting your ability to work alone. But, I've heard you mention coworkers in passing."
( @mischeviouspainter )
"Ah, Lord Painter! Lovely to see you again."
*Hierax tips its head in a small bow, sitting at the table with an admittedly more straight posture than their fellow contestant. Their simple smile twitched ever so slightly at the mention of being a serial killer, but steeled it just as quickly. Not the words Hierax would like to be called, but so mote it be.*
"You aren't taking up any space, don't worry. You are quite the pleasant company to keep! And thank you for the drink."
*It wasn't often Hierax got many questions about their... well, they would call it a hobby, although most others definitely would not. First that anon, and now Caspian. But why not indulge the man? After all, Hierax was more than willing to share.*
"For most of my little hobby, I worked alone. Not that I didn't want to work with anyone, I like working alongside others, but it's not that easy to recruit anyone to a cause such as my own. Especially with people who... simply just don't understand where I'm coming from."
*It takes a sip from its drink, mostly out of politeness before setting it down and to the side. Alcohol never sat right on its tongue, no matter the drink they tried. Perhaps a blessing - or a curse - from Temperance itself.*
"I didn't realize you'd heard of my, ah, co-workers. Not that I mind the question, of course. They started working with me near the end of my journey, and would unfortunately lead to my arrest. One slip up, and suddenly, it was as if they understood everything about me and my intentions. And I couldn't have my endeavors ending so soon.
"They were less like co-workers, more like assistants, really. I made sure neither of them would call the police, and they would typically help with disposals and such. Should've just killed them, really, like the rest of them, but you know how hindsight is."
*They shrug, sighing a little bit. There were many things Hierax would've done differently, but the time would've passed regardless, and someone was going to find out at some point. There wasn't much point in ruminating about it any longer than necessary.*
The way Hierax so simply spoke about their aforementioned “hobby” so simply had the painter captivated hook, line, and sinker. To have it laid out so openly before him was new and strange. Not in a horrible way (even if serial murder wasn’t the best thing to do). But, they were both nothing but confined captives in this “game”. Caspian supposed it made sense for them to be so forward.
“You didn’t have any suspicions on who’d snitch on you so… carelessly?” The painter was trying to find the right words to describe what occurred. Mind him; his own murder was more so out of self-defence and adrenaline rather than long-winding. Maybe he didn’t have the right vocabulary. “Hindsight is a pain. I understand that far too well.” Caspian agreed with Hierax with a light chortle, accompanied with a short nod. After taking a rather long sip of his cherry-flavoured beverage, his head tilted.
“Did any of them have a similar memo…. moe… motor… Ahem, MO to you? I wouldn’t think having someone work with you so willingly would be a simple task at hand.” He totally knew how to say modus operandi, absolutely. “Though, if they were a hassle in the end, why have assistants in the first place? Starboy says you went on for a while, no?”
"Well... I suppose the circumstances in which they were... brought on definitely affected it. I was only really working with two others, and both came from the same circumstance, so I knew they had a pretty high likelihood that they'd snitch."
*Hierax waves their hand around as they talked, glad to share (while still sparing crucial and visual details that Caspian didn't really need to be privy of, really) in an activity they enjoyed, no matter how legal it was.*
"Their, ah, modus operandi?"*It said that way too playfully, as if just knowing Caspian had fumbled the phrase he wanted to say.* "Hm... I'm not one to peer into people's minds, but, regardless of how I'd like to think, it was based around fear. Fear of what, I suppose I'll keep that part a bit of a secret."
*Hierax frowned, shaking their head in some strange form of disappointment. Like a normal person should be glad and grateful that they get to work with a serial killer.*
"It's not like I had much of a choice in the matter, really. Had to do something with them, and I thought that maybe having an extra set of hands or two would be beneficial and more efficient.
"...I suppose that became one set of hands. But, no matter!"
*It laughs awkwardly, moving past an irregularity in its explanation. It was smart to keep at least something secret, no? Better to have the conversation move along anyways.*
"Enough about me, Lord Painter. What about you? Our Paranoid Liege is quite vocal about all the things I've done, but what about you? Doesn't have to be why you're here having this conversation with me, could be anything, really."
Hierax's rather playful correction was enough to make him gawk, then lightheartedly stick his tongue out that the other contestant - all good naturedly, of course. Yet, the mention of fear reeled Caspian back in again in awe. Almost like a moth to a flame, some would say. Yet, he knew better than to singe his wings for any further information.
With little time to question the irregularity of its explanation, Caspian grins as Hierax laughs, snickering lightly along. He'd always been someone made easy to laugh, especially with others.
"It's fascinating to hear your perspective." The painter's voice is softer, more genuine than the 'mischevious' role given to him. "Thank you for being so transparent. I'll take it to the grave." With a chuckle, he playfully winks at it.
As the tone shifts, Caspian gasps as the attention is brought onto him. "A-Ah! I don't think I could usurp anything riveting as that. I was but a humble painter. Most of my work followed a lot of emotional aspects from history, or horrific things from dreams and the macabre." There's a slight shrug of Caspian's shoulders as he mentioned his (now, previous) occupation.
"Some... robber tried to break into my home, with my old 'ma on the couch. She was sickly, too. Far too much of a risk, y'know? I was lucky enough to be working late in the night to take care of it. Just didn't mean to kill the guy."
There's a faint shiver, and a falter of his smile that lasted a beat or two. Caspian looked remorsful, a stark contrast to Hierax and it's own killings. But, he quickly resumed that 'role' the show gave him, and barked out a laugh. "Anyways, 'ma and I tried to hide the body together. Shame that our neighbour called the cops before we could properly get it out of the house."
"You flatter me, truly. You call yourself a humble painter, but I know the arts are far more extravagant than even you make yourself out to be. I know I could never hold a pen to the masterpieces I'm certain you've created. If we really want to be parsimonious about it, I was but a humble performer who happened to be involved in the deaths of others."
*They huffed amusedly as Caspian talked, absorbing his explanation. They couldn't help but feel a little bit of sympathy for Caspian's past situation, Arcana knows what Hierax would've done in his shoes. Probably something similar, really. But that wasn't really important.*
"It is unfortunate what had happened to you and your mother, and I offer my condolences. I would hope your mother is, at the very least, faring well?"
"Oh-! Oh my, oh wow." Caspian's cheeks heat up at the extravagant compliment directed towards him. He was used to praise or his work , but worded so... practically poetically? And from someone from a (somewhat) similar standing? It was touching, maybe even a bit flustering. Any mask that remained seemed to fall instantly. "You are wonderfully kind, Mx. Augur. I'd almost say you're a sweet-talker! I... thank you. It's nice to hear that from someone with a further understanding of the arts."
It's with that now fallen mask did Caspian seem to truly react to Hierax's sympathy - and the comment about his mother. A small break of his voice could be heard, before the dual-haired man gulped. "Ah, we were supposed to make it onto the further rounds together. She knew a lot about how Bet and Forgive was formatted, with the rounds and all that."
His light brown eyes dart around the room, looking for any unrelated third parties, before leaning in closer to Heirax, and dropping his voice into something secretive and notably softer. "I'm afraid she didn't make it past roulette. We were paired against one another, and there's this... saying about parents not wanting to outlive their young."
The straightforward sentence is what makes those walls build back up. It was a distraction; a deflection for his own peace of mind. At least, while he was still in this place. All Caspian wanted was to live, really, and find out exactly what was going on around this set.
"But, you mentioned that you were a performer! My friend, why didn't you say so sooner~!" That natural, smooth trill returned in a rebound, covering up his prior weakness. "And to think that the producers didn't call you an artist yourself. How could they!"
[They've been standing nearby for an awkward amount of time before speaking]
"So uh.. did they call you a painter? That's kinda cool."
- @inspirational-klutz
Please excuse my son he's autistic
Caspian jumps slightly in mild shock before turning to face Arbour. A light chuckle brushes past his lips as he waves a hand.
"It was merely my occupation. Your words are very kind, nonetheless.. Thank you" He shrugs as he slinks closer to the other contestant. A lopsided smile then takes place on Caspian's lips. "And yet, they call you a klutz? Not that I expect the producers to be ethical, but couldn't they choose something more... unbiased? Non-judgemental, even?"
“Lady Peacock.” Caspian slides onto a nearby barstool, a beverage in each hand as he shoots Iris a light, yet friendly smile. Even if they haven’t talked much — or before, quite frankly — , it didn’t hurt to at least make himself somewhat approachable. Moreso, approach Iris himself.
“Care for a drink? You might need it, especially after tonight’s… events.” The dual-haired painter slid a glass in her direction, the liquid swirling within the cup. For a moment, something softer flashes on his face. Despite his role as “mischievous”, there was an authentic, more sympathetic expression on his face. “How are you faring? Are you well?”
( @mischeviouspainter )
"Oh well aren't you a charmer. Offering a lady a drink on the house like that. How considerate,"
"And I am fairing quite nicely at the moment Mr. Painter. What about you? Have you been doing okay yourself? "
There's a small flash of a grin at the compliment, as Caspian laughs lightly, and props his head up upon one of his hands. "A lady without a drink is like a cat without a mouse. Terribly cruel, if you ask me." The dual-haired man from his own drink - something cherry related ; he didn't remember the name.
Seemingly relieved by her more positive status, Caspian nods once, his posture relaxing significantly. "How wonderful to hear! It's nice to see someone not too overwhelmed for once. Or paranoid." A light sigh, something mixed between partial fondness and half-exhaustion leaves him, before continuing. "Ah, I'm quite well, thank you. I didn't think Mister King would allow contestants to have such... downtime."
[Iris chuckled at the comparison, it was very fitting and catchy turn of phrase. She took the drink and sipped it softly with a smile.] "Being paranoid and anxious constantly is exhausting and well... it give you wrinkles~"
"And as for Beau, well they only get specific air time hours and such— and well too much death in a short time may make the viewers at home either squeamish or see how bad the show is deep down, reminding them we are real living humans... not characters in fiction."
Caspian slowly nods along, paying rather close attention to Iris’ words. He can’t help the slight grow in his smile as she addresses the show’s host with such a nickname. It’s endearing, really. “You’re implying that those watching see us as… hm, subhuman in a way?” Was this the proper word? Bear with him; unlike his late mother, Caspian didn’t truly watch Bet and Forgive.
“You do have a point, m’lady. In the end, I suppose it allows us to try to process the situation.” He agrees with a curt nod, followed by another - now longer - sip. “That unfortunate truth makes much more sense than Starboy’s ramblings.”
"It's best to keep a level head about all of this and also to enjoy every second you still have left. As the eldest contestant here, I don't want to spend my remaining time alive panicking about the show. I applied for it... so I shouldn't be surprised."
The practiced smile falters into a sense of, hm, wonder? No, no. It had to have been some sort of awe. Awe for how she was so accepting about this. Cocking a brow, his lips ripple upwards in a more relaxed position.
"You're wise, Lady Songstress. I'll live on by that. You sound like my 'Ma, or one of those 'wine aunt's." There's a faint 'huh', as if met with realization. Curiosity walks into the bar again, rearing it's nose in once more. "Do you not miss what you had before at all? Ah, if I'm not overstepping, that is."
Caspian's mouth hung open in shock. He didn't think that would happen! Surely, he thought it'd be some sort of prop, or even a novelty toy. But this? Oh, this changes so much.
"I found it in one of the shops! I didn't think that shit would work!" The sound of baffled, booming laughter bubble from the dual-haired man as he looks at Benny awestruck.
"Does that mean I can use you in a Pokemon battle?" Caspian asked, a little TOO eager. Guess he really put the "mischievous" in "Mischievous Painter". With a grin, he adds with a shrug, "You can have the larger cut of the profits."
"Guess that means I have to try again~! You'd make a great member of my team." Well, Benny would be his *only* member. But, that was besides the point. Caspian beams as he picks up the Pokeball, and aims it at Benny once more.
"You think you're a high-level Pokemon? That just makes me wanna catch you more." The painter snickers, before cocking a brow. "If I let you go ham on ... dunno, Bones? - would you battle for me then?"
It's there when Caspian throws the pokeball at Benny *again*.
“Oh,come on, Live-wire. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Caspian groans as the pokeball rolls freely behind Benny. Then, those final words finally hit him. And he gasps. Oh, that struck a nerve. “Lousy artist?! ‘Scuse you?”
Words struggle to come out of Caspian, until he decides to puff out one of his cheeks. “Well, no, I haven’t got anyone else. Yet.” It’s then where the painter grins again, suddenly rebounding. “You could share a ball with me. Or Eddie. Maybe even that butterfly gal. Wouldn’t that be nice? Being like those mice Pokémon. Uhm… Maushold?”
