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@mr-miserable-and-me
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Blue Fog/Tristesse County.
"I DO NOT THINK THAT IS A WISE DECISION."
Well, the guy was right. Whoever this dude was. Had a cool Halloween costume. In June, right?
“Aight,” Enoch decided. “But you ain’t stopping me from chugging this down like a beast.” Because who wouldn’t? It blurred everything together, and it made him realize that it didn’t matter if he couldn’t tell the difference between reality and fiction. He was fearless when he was drunk. He’d love to have that everyday of his life.
“Why do you care so much, anyway? I don’t even know you.”
"I DO NOT THINK THAT IS A WISE DECISION."
billdeath:
“YOU HAVE IMBIBED TOO MUCH ALCOHOL. YOU MUST BE INTOXICATED. YOUR FACULTIES ARE NOT ALL ABOUT YOU.”
“Really? Can’t believe you, man.” He’d done this several times before and turned out just fine in someone else’s house! He was in no danger. “I may be drunk, but I can assure you I am also... 100% sober. What’s the worry about, anyway?”
"I DO NOT THINK THAT IS A WISE DECISION."
“Why not?” He was spinning a bottle of beer, stumbling and swaying on his feet. “Iiii’m sure I’m good. Really good.”
Hello! If you would be interested in interacting with a laid-back rp sideblog featuring DEATH / BILL DOOR from TERRY PRATCHETT’s DISCWORLD series, could you please LIKE or REBLOG this post?
"IS THIS HOW HUMANS HAVE FUN?" asked Death, or, in this case, Bill Door, as he'd so cleverly named himself. He was holding a teddy bear he'd just won from the fair. The game had been easy, throw a ball into a few bottles, and get the prize. Was the getting of the prize the fun bit, or the throwing the ball? He supposed it had been 'fun', if by 'fun' it meant 'something with which to amuse himself'.
Enoch rose a brow at the question. Seemed a bit of an odd thing to ask, but well, odd people were nice people. Most of them, at least. “Uh, yeah,” Enoch replied, scratching his chin. “You having fun?”
The Taste Of Your Hearts...
susans-weird-blog:
Susan glared at their surroundings fists held tightly as shivers ran down her spine- everything seemed fine, but didn’t feel fine.
“Enoch- that phone call. I heard screaming, and crashing- someone was in here, destroying things. What happened-?”
She asked firmly, staring Enoch right in the eye.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
mr-miserable-and-me:
Enoch didn't respond for a very long moment. Then he gave her a grin and a furrowed brow as if he were confused about what she was saying. “Nothing...?” he replied. He put his hands in his pockets. “Nothing was happening?”
There was the sound of footsteps in the kitchen.
“DId we even have a phone call? I don’t remember.”
The Taste Of Your Hearts...
susans-weird-blog:
If this were a cartoon, Susan’s hair would’ve comically frizzled up into a puff ball, signalling off her shock which was very quickly replaced with worry, and more importantly anger.
It took about what? 5 minutes? Until Susan, secretly armed, was banging at the doors of Enoch’s house. After no one answered in the first 5 seconds, Enoch’s door was kicked down with such force he’d have to find someone to replace the doors, if Sue wouldn’t do it herself.
“ENOCH-!? Where are you!? Whose was that scream-!?”
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
mr-miserable-and-me:
As the door was kicked open, all chaos seemed to unleash at once. Yes. The hollowing of the wind outside. The panic within Susan’s face. The despair inside her heart and soul. Inside the house was revealed to be--
--Enoch. Completely fine. Sitting on a chair in the living room.
He jumped when the slam of the door knocked down onto the floor. He stood up, eyes wide. “Whoa, Susan!” he exclaimed. “What’s wrong??” There seemed to be nothing wrong with him. He was still his skinny, messy self.
The Taste Of Your Hearts...
starter for @susans-weird-blog
“Heya, Susan?” Enoch called her on a beautiful orange evening one day. “C-Can we cancel our, uh, little thing tonight? I can’t meet up. Sorry. Can we do it tomorrow?” His breath hitched for a moment. Over the phone, Susan would be able to hear a loud crash sound.
“Sorry for calling at the last minute. But, but, I’m kinda busy right now and I don’t h-have much--”
Then there was an abrupt female scream that cut through the audio of the phone without hesitance.
The call ended.
[Open Starter- Samuel Beechworth]
"Oh!" Samuel commented, salt and pepper brows raised up in surprise. It was clear his passenger's comment had him curious. But he quickly dismissed it, saying, "I should concentrate on piloting this boat."
The riverwater lapped at the sides of the tiny vessel. A gloved hand held the controls, its movements mirroring those of the rutter as he steered the boat wherever it needed to go. The sailor's silence did not last as long as his attempts to dispell his curiosity might have alluded, however.
"Maybe it's not my place to ask, but you mind telling me just what happened to get you here? You're damn lucky I found you. Could hardly believe my old eyes, seeing you still breathing."
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s definitely your place to ask.” Enoch scratched his head, having not washed it for days. He wondered if he was emitting some sort of smell. Maybe he smelled like barbecue chicken. Or maybe he smelled like a piece of shit shat on shit. That’d be the more accurate one.
In truth, he wasn’t sure if he could even answer Samuel’s question truthfully. What was he supposed to say? He ran away from his best friend because she was about to keep him as her hostage? That... wouldn’t sound nice at all, would it?
Currently, Enoch was having trouble staying relaxed. He looked around the water, wondering if someone was hiding in the waves, ready to pull him down. Maybe his father. His muscles were tense. Voices were chiming in his brain right now, but he did his best to ignore them. This boat guy seemed to be trustworthy. He didn’t want to ruin their possible connection.
“I uh... escaped. From a place.” He shrugged and averted his eyes. “You probably could’ve figured it out already, though. I don’t look good.”
It was true that his passenger smelled of something foul. Samuel had assumed it was from the river water. Maybe he'd escaped a place through the sewers, like Corvo had all that time ago. But there weren't many people who didn't smell terrible in times like these. Plague was still in the process of being cured and all, now that Emily Kaldwin was on her rightful throne. But a vaccine was ready, and currently in the process of being distributed. It'd be gone in time, God willing. Just had to have faith in the good people in charge and the powers that be.
"If this were a few months ago, I would've guessed the Watch or Lord Regent were on your tail. Hard to say now though. Don't want to make assumptions about folks and all."
Samuel turned his head, looking back to the man. He looked like he was in rough shape, to say the absolute least of it. He'd be a liar to think he'd never come to worse, though.
"Think I might know of a good place to take you so you can lay low."
bellbeckoned:
It was true that his passenger smelled of something foul. Samuel had assumed it was from the river water. Maybe he’d escaped a place through the sewers, like Corvo had all that time ago. But there weren’t many people who didn’t smell terrible in times like these. Plague was still in the process of being cured and all, now that Emily Kaldwin was on her rightful throne. But a vaccine was ready, and currently in the process of being distributed. It’d be gone in time, God willing. Just had to have faith in the good people in charge and the powers that be.
“If this were a few months ago, I would’ve guessed the Watch or Lord Regent were on your tail. Hard to say now though. Don’t want to make assumptions about folks and all.”
Samuel turned his head, looking back to the man. He looked like he was in rough shape, to say the absolute least of it. He’d be a liar to think he’d never come to worse, though.
“Think I might know of a good place to take you so you can lay low.”
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
mr-miserable-and-me:
“Really?” Enoch said. “Oh. Uh... thanks.”
The Watch? Lord Regent?? Who were those people? He’d clearly stumbled into a place that lived quite differently from back home. This boat guy was saying all of this so casually. Enoch was just hoping he could get some food and water. He hadn’t eaten anything but...
Cannibal meat-eater You’re a disgusting freak let yourself be fooled and now you’re a criminal You disgusting freak monster Nobody loves you Nobody even loved you before you got tricked Idiot
He wished voices weren’t as annoying as they were. He hoped that this boat guy wouldn’t think of him as weird for talking unnecessarily loud. There wasn’t much he could do to talk over the voices, anyway. A part of him wondered if he’d still hear them if he became deaf. Then he shook himself, feeling gross.
“Just one thing,” he said. “Two things, actually. Please don’t mind if I don’t hear you all that well. I have... bad hearing.” A lie he’d used over and over again. “And, uh, also -- I’m not gonna interact with anybody in the place you’re takin’ me too, right? I don’t think I’m that good socializing...”
[Open Starter- Samuel Beechworth]
"Oh!" Samuel commented, salt and pepper brows raised up in surprise. It was clear his passenger's comment had him curious. But he quickly dismissed it, saying, "I should concentrate on piloting this boat."
The riverwater lapped at the sides of the tiny vessel. A gloved hand held the controls, its movements mirroring those of the rutter as he steered the boat wherever it needed to go. The sailor's silence did not last as long as his attempts to dispell his curiosity might have alluded, however.
"Maybe it's not my place to ask, but you mind telling me just what happened to get you here? You're damn lucky I found you. Could hardly believe my old eyes, seeing you still breathing."
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s definitely your place to ask.” Enoch scratched his head, having not washed it for days. He wondered if he was emitting some sort of smell. Maybe he smelled like barbecue chicken. Or maybe he smelled like a piece of shit shat on shit. That’d be the more accurate one.
In truth, he wasn’t sure if he could even answer Samuel’s question truthfully. What was he supposed to say? He ran away from his best friend because she was about to keep him as her hostage? That... wouldn’t sound nice at all, would it?
Currently, Enoch was having trouble staying relaxed. He looked around the water, wondering if someone was hiding in the waves, ready to pull him down. Maybe his father. His muscles were tense. Voices were chiming in his brain right now, but he did his best to ignore them. This boat guy seemed to be trustworthy. He didn’t want to ruin their possible connection.
“I uh... escaped. From a place.” He shrugged and averted his eyes. “You probably could’ve figured it out already, though. I don’t look good.”
Enoch got his dog, Tammy, from a patient at the nursing home. The patient was about to pass away at that time, and she had no other family to give her dog to. She didn’t want to put her dog up for adoption because she was afraid her dog would be treated badly. So she trusted Enoch to take care of her instead.
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