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Wait, you can leave this forum? I thought it was some sort of sick Sisyphean torturous underworld punishment for all of my eleven year old sins.
Well Amaury, let me introduce you to a famous novel titled The Call of the Wild.
I recall reading through those threads and being far too lazy to wish to contribute the effort when people were already sparring identical arguments with ten times the hot-bloodedness. And now when I attempt to frequent Debate and the other Discussion sections more it feels a bit more like a ghost town. Alas, I have missed the age of the titans.
I am not sure what to say about the fact that the Facebook analogue is segregated from the rest of working society with that forest.
{ 1 2 : 0 0 } Uuuuuuuuugh ...Torvald rolled his throbbing head off of the table, sliding to the floor in a dirty mess. How long had he been out at the bar? He opened his eyes, and everything was still as messy as it was last night. He tried to lift himself up, struggling to hold the table edge while rubbing his temple with his other free hand. Looking around, many of the other patrons were passed out -- in drunkedness, or perhaps ecstasy, and the rainbow kid was nowhere to be found. Torvald grunted. He looked back at the bartender, who continued to nonchalantly clean his glasses, walked over, grabbed some money out of his pocket and slammed it on the counter, and tried to walk out of the damn hellhole.When he was on the street, he checked his phone to see if Oliver had replied.And sure enough, there was that apathetic little revolutionary claiming that trumpets were unlikely to have a place in this band! Insolence! Torvald growled to the sky, unaware that he frightened a few people walking down the sidewalk next to him; this messy monster of a beast. He would take action! What time was it! Torvald checked his phone. God damn! He might be late for the rehearsal!Torvald stuffed his phone back into his pocket and began running as fast as he could upon the winter-bleached sidewalk. His head stung and he felt dizzy, but he tried his best to get back to the bus station when--ACK!!He bumped into some rude bourgeois ignoramus! He fell onto his backside with a thump, and looked up at the man.<< AH! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS! THE ONLY REMEDY IS TO JOIN TANNHAUSER'S REVOLUTION. STATE YOUR NAME, MONEYBAGS. >> Wait, that face looked rather familiar ... He certainly had never seen the man before, but he felt as if he saw those eyes -- or rather, eye? { P A S S I O N - O - M A T I C } { ▰▰▰ } { status: hungover }
[ muffled dangan ronpa theme plays in the distance ]
{ m u s i c }[ divine comedy ] << Do y'even know how to set up that thing? >> Fatime, sitting up in her hospital bed and holding the new tablet tightly, glared at the idiot nurse boy. She had slept through the entire morning, but while Malgré sat waiting for her, she tried her best to set up everything as quick as possible so this fool could get out of her hair. She stuck out her tongue and lowered her gaze in distinct concentration, rapidly tapping away on the screen to set everything up. The Professor was still fast asleep, and she did not wish to wake him up just yet; no other guests had visited -- how ... strange. Did they not care about the Professor being in the hospital at all? << Ya freakin' dimwit, I-- >> Fatime shushed the boy with a whip of her inky hair. It took a few more minutes, but everything was finally loaded up and ready. It was a new model! She really was surprised that Lucas would invest so much time in something like-- ... this. Did-- did Ayanna ever give him the present? Why hasn't he called? Where did he go? She stared at the blank home screen for a few moments. << Wake up!! >> Ugh! Fatime glared viciously at the buffoon, before putting the tablet away and writing something on another black paper airplane, using the nurse's silver marker. With a flick of the wrist, she threw it towards Malgré's wide chalky forehead. << CHRIST!! >> He snatched it as it fell away from his head. << What do you even-- >> << Don't you have a job to do? You'd make the other patients worry. >> Malgré groaned and turned back to Fatime. << Yeah, uh-- y--y-- I've gotta start the first sessions of seeing how good yer mobility is today. We'll be walkin' a bit. >> Oh noooo. How much was she missing at Fortissimo, anyway? Nobody seemed to care about the Professor ... She looked back at the sleeping lion. Maybe if she were able to walk, she could try and spread the ... word? Ack! How could she, of all people, spread a message like that?
{ m u s i c }[ divine comedy ] For the rest of the evening, Fatime sat by herself in her bed, reading through the enormous origami tome while occasionally sending glances this way and that towards the congregation around Julius' bed. The windows were closed, but the winter winds whipped against them, and she sat like a tiny squirrel in her bed corner, huddled over a few sheets of black paper. Her fingers were nimble and quick, and she was about to finish her second crane when a loud, vibrant noise struck her ears. She turned towards the Professor's bed and spotted some buffoon whom she assumed was related to the Professor himself. How could two people be so different? She originally believed this until she realized, through their common discussions of rote, how ... similar they were. Brothers? Hmm ... Fatime nodded her head and went back to her origami. When the people slowly departed, she had finished her fourth crane when she found that night had passed through; Julius had returned to sleep without a world. The shadows were cold and long on the hospital floor. Fatime, she suddenly felt very alone. Did she have any other books to read besides the origami tome? She had the tablet, but it would take a while to load everything ... Ah. Ah well. She placed her cranes on her bedside table and rolled herself back up in bed, gently falling back to sleep. This day was ... it was more pleasant than she had experienced in such a while.
{ inebriation level: too drunk to remember time } IOSnolence! htir swould not stand fore somethgin slike thjsdj because djhe sjw ;e;grd was sfcerttain that he woculd understrang the scurrent prdicmenament solifidied by the stedate of the board game! ITirvald sopped another glsas and took a swirg of a stein byr his hand. His frace wasrt splotchy snd ti; red, c. He peoreaased at fl cre tile down and thrne gout iut if this screat ciolently, standi g up and sen dnig aone of the pot-bellowed men behind himf lyoing. << TAKE THIS, AND THIS! >> he repressed j a sidisc of blakc down on the reverdsi board wirh textreme proejudice. THe entire tthree diangeonal roaws ;pe convrrted to the blac commu nism of his sideed. Torvl stood wirht happe nss. << THIS CANNOT CONTINUE FOREVER! >> He dirfnak anothee r beer and rubbed his mouth, the entire roomo smelling thickly fo alcohol. << I SHALL HAVE MY WAY! DEAR RAINBOW, IT IS CLEAR THAT BY THE END OF THE NIGHT WE WILL UNDERSTAND THE TRUE VICTOR OF WHOM WILL CONVERT OURSELVES TO OUR PHILOSOPHIES! MAY THIS BE A CHALLENGE UPON YOUR SOUL, AND MAY I BREAK THIS CHALLENGE! >> he stoOd on a the teaoble. _ < MAY I BREAK THROUGH THIS WITH AN INFINITE REVOLUTION LIKE I HAVE DONE MANY YEARS IN THE PAST! I AM WITHOUT AGE! INFINITE RECURSION! THE BOOTS OF THE MANY WILL ALLOW HUMANITY TO MOVE FORWARD TO A NEW AND PROSPEROUS AGE! THE TRUTH WILL PREVAIL AS IT WILL FOR YOU MY DEAR WORKING CLASS HERO! >> Toroivdalv fekll off thHE THABLE an d n explodeid into a feaint. the game endod and he fell into a deep, peaceful snooze, dreaming about his next big game. { P A S S I O N - O - M A T I C }{ ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ !!! } { status: fainted to sleep drunk face down on the table }
{ 1 5 : 0 0 } Torvald got back up and threw money in Evan's face for the coffee and looked at his watch and nodded at Richie and gazed angrily at Freya and a few other random people for seemingly not acknowledging his important announcement then he said some words words words to Evan laced and caked with Communist parody saying before looking at his watch again and reiterating his question of why Evan was not there and saying it would be a long night because internet browsers can be terrifyingly technologies when they randomly crash on you and lose 6+ paragraphs worth of post. { inebriation level: too drunk to remember time } << Ack! >> Torvald's voice, emanatingrrf deeply from the bfar across the street labelled << Auriga's Chariot >>, but the drurenks just called it r"wheeeE" in inenbriated fervor after a shot ofr sixteen. Inside the bar, the bartender silently polished a few tumblers while a crowd of curious onlookers, in various states of ddrunkedness, gazeed at Evan and Torvald's table. Upon it sat, among a few towers of glasses stackled a meter into the air, a small board game with white and black pieces. The hall was filled with the thick scent of sweet smoke and spiced alcohol, and the noise of the nearby radio drowned orut much of anything that could resemble rational thought. snores Torvald slammedm the table, rattling the glasses.s << You think he's gonad do it? >> A pot-belliede man who smrlled of whiskeu called out behind him.. << Nnnope! >> << Aaawwwww ... cc--c--come ooon, h--he ihas to. I mean, what other choice does he g got? >> The cunning Rainbow fairy was was-- was ssupposed to play intro his dtrap! ho;w could he have done something so ridiculoius like cplay the piece RIGHT THERE AND CONVERT ALL OF HIS PIECES TO THE EVILS OF CAPITALISM;; Torvald held his head din slight disarrray -- he was not sure if he hadf ever been this inebriated before, even at the trerible Bennett household. B-but he knwew when to wear masks. d Torvald got his mask on << Rainbow, dear Rainbow ... >> He began, hdis voice calm and stoothing. ., << You have to be more careful in the future, or else the revolution, it will never reach your doorstep! >> toroVald fd lifted his hand int he air and dramatically y helled the black Reversi disc in the lright of the bar. The people behding him gasped in amazedsmdent. wITH the stricke of thunder, torvald trattled the table with a meszmermizingjg shock as he placed thre piece down and converted ane ntire column to his blakcness. He sat back on hthis chair and smiled, gazing at Evan with t a look of extreme cunning and clam consideration. In rearteality, behind his splotchy-faced ruddiness of silent condisideration, he was drunmk off his rocker. << Evan! >> Trovlad caled out . << Tell me, you who walks among the rainbows! This dance will last deep into the night! Do you truly believe that the world is simply set into a bas-relief of black and white? That there are no facets, shades, tones to every corner of this planet! I hope you do not take this to heart in this rambunctious gavotte! >> Trovald cougheed. << This little game shall decide who holds enough conversion power in their heart! Can you dare compete with the fight of philosophy? I shall convert you to telling me your story of outside-academia like I have converted so many to the drug that is living tall and grandiose! >> He taped his fingergs loudly ton the tabel d and waited. { P A S S I O N - O - M A T I C } { ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ ! } { status: extremely drunk }
Ah, unfortunately I do not think so.
{ m u s i c }[ divine comedy ] << Breakfast. >> A familiar, tired voice rung out from the nearby hallway. Malgré, that ridiculous nurse no older than seventeen years, slowly opened the door and poked his lanky head in. His attention briefly turned to Erik, gasped and exasperated at his presence, but he looked away and pretended not to see this sudden transgression of visiting hours. He slipped by Erik and Julius as they read Fatime's note, placing a tray of food on Julius' bedside table. He went up and glared at Fatime. She leered back at him from inside her bear cave of blankets as he walked slowly over to her with a tray of food. << Ya little punk-faced smashbang ... >> He muttered, as he placed the food on her table. Fatime immediately scribbled something on the remainder of her menu and pulled at his sleeve. << DANG. FREAKIN' CROCKHEADS. >> He pulled aside and grabbed the note out of her fingers. << I need some more white paper and some pen or marker that can show up on black paper. Thank you. >> Malgré crumpled up the paper and mumbled an "aiight, whatever." << Fatime, is there something wrong with your voice box? >> What in the world! Fatime flew back a bit under her blanket and popped her head out like a frustrated rabbit. << Y-- Yeah, >> The idiot nurse thought he could reply without being spoken to. She picked up her pillow again. << She can talk but she acts like a ran-stankin' freakin' mute--OOF >> Malgré flew forward as the thick pillow hit his back. He grumbled and got out of the room as fast as he could. There was nothing wrong! She could-- could speak. She could sing! Right, right. But not to people like him! They -- what would they say? Nonsense! Why waste energy getting other people to try and understand you when you could use other words to speak for you? Languages were built on that, right? Fatime's heart pounded at this question. << A-- >> She tried to begin, her voice trembling violently-- << What do you think about the musical? >> oh. The build-up in Fatime's lungs petered out and she retreated back to her blankets. She opened the origami book and read a bit, trying to hear the conversation at the back of her mind.
{ 1 4 : 5 0 } W--what was-- Torvald looked up as he felt a sharp storm of cold reach the slight burn on his ankle. What was ... was that Duvont?! Torvald gasped and felt his heart fall far below the ends of his chest. No! No no no! His face, for once not in an expression of frustration or disgruntlement but a tangled mess of reddened embarrassment and shyness, pulled away his leg from Duvont's cold press. This wasn't the time for that! The revolution was not heading in the right direction! He felt his pulse quicken as he looked around the cafe. Where did this little child even come from?! Ah-- He grabbed his first aid kit by his coat and took out some ointment, administering it on the burn. Turning back to Duvont, Torvald tersely replied: << You did not seem to hear what I said previously because you have just arrived, young Duvont! I certainly hope you had your little fun at the Bennett's disgusting aristocratic maze of a gaudy estate, for while parties and debauchery flew through the broken wings of revolution our poor Professor Julius got into a very very dear-- urk-- >> Torvald groaned as the pain ebbed away. << Uh-- accident! >> He tried to stand up, his legs wobbling, holding himself by the table. << C--Car accident! Thus, concern yourself not for some lowly peon of the revolution like myself! Consider the burn a part of the plan! >> He stared coldly into Duvont's eyes, scarcely acknowledging the other gatherings of students. His ankle felt better, though. Torvald coughed and quickly looked towards the window. << Uh. T--thank you, fellow revolutionary, for-- for your medical attention ... B--But! Never concern yourself when a medic injures yourself, my dear future of the world!! >>
{ m u s i c }[ divine comedy ] At first, Fatime had watched the black airplane drift on its merry way leisurely, but when she saw it growing closer and closer to Julius' good eye she felt a heaviness puff up in her chest until-- AAAAAAAAAAAAH! She yelped like a kitten who did not know how to speak, and almost jumped three meters into the air when she saw the airplane hit Julius' good eye. Oh no oh no oh no what was she doing she was a dimwit buffoon good freaking job Fatime you good for nothing aaaa aaaaaaaaaaa -- she slapped her forehead a few times and readjusted her glasses. Injuring an injured man! You good for noth-- Julius replied to her note. Oh, he was ... okay? Fatime's heart rate lowered, and she nodded back at him, a bit sheepishly. There was a knock at the door, and in stepped Erik with a thick coat and a bundle of flowers. What was this odd man doing here?! She immediately covered her tiny self in blankets and curled up like a turtle hiding in its shell, letting out a mousey squeak. << Flowers for the lady. >> Fatime looked suspiciously at the bundle o flowersErik had set on her bedside table, poking at them with a single finger while still huddled beneath her cozy blanket. With her protected hand, she held the black paper, menu, pen, and large purple book close to her chest, safe and comfortable inside her shell. Why did someone give her flowers? Uuuurk ... how fleeting, ephemeral. Flowers withered and died like everything else in the world. She looked back at her book. Books, and the knowledge they provided someone, they were eternal. But ... there was little in the way Erik would have considered that, she supposed ... She picked up one of the daffodil petals and held it close to her nose under the blanket. The very corners of her ears picked up more discussion between the two men. Erik asked how both of them were, but Fatime did not want to poke out his eye too. Julius asked Erik for a pen. What!! She was being burdenous! Fatime immediately shot the blankets off of her body and almost collapsed onto the floor! No, no! Don't ask him! To her relief, Erik did not want to leave either of them. Incompetence and innumerable sensations of frivolity! Fatime grunted. She could make do with what she had until she had a proper writing utensil to herself! Her face flushed angrily as she scribbled another note down on the menu paper and ripped it off, getting ready to fold a second black airplane. Erik asked about what happened at the car crash ... ah. Fatime titled her head to the side as she ... tried ... to remember? It was rough, like a watercolour Impressionist work. Everything in forms, and nothing concrete -- a dream, almost. She shook her head back and forth and tried to recount as much as she could remember from the incident ... Her hand stopped for a moment. Did-- did she still have that chocolate box ... anywhere? << Please pardon me, Mister Erik, for having to do this. And I am really really sorry for your eye Professor please forgive me!!! It happened all at once. Professor was driving down the road without much else happening. He bought some gifts for everyone at the party because he is too kind to live among the people of Candlewood. He is good at making someone feel comfortable. Along one of the county roads, after stopping, there was a sudden flash of bright light and a head-on collision with a car containing ... three or four people, I think. I almost died but the kind Professor saved my life, and he is the real hero in this situation. He carried himself and my frail figure out into the snow before fainting. I did not get a good look at the people in the other car; I am not sure if they are still alive, and have no idea if the news reported things or not properly. I have fractures in my left leg and stitches along my back from glass shrapnel. Julius' condition is much worse; please, if anything, he is the one that requires the most attention out of all of the others who may arrive, regardless of whether or not they are in the play. We must decide if we will put it on hiatus >> She folded this long explanation, which took an entire third of the menu paper, and slipped it into the black paper airplane, before tossing it between Julius and Erik, making sure she angled it to hopefully land by Erik's chair and Julius' bedside table.
{ 1 4 : 4 5 } Torvald took a sip of his coffee as he glared down at Evan, continuing his little story. How could it be that someone had little idea of the musical? Then again, this lad had been absent more times than Torvald could count in his strangled brain. He tapped his fingers gently on the table, and occasionally gazed outside to gaze at the rustling among the cold streets. Evan said he had things to take care of. Torvald's interest was piqued. He took another sip of coffee and shot Evan a steely blue look. Out of county, hmm? << Care to explain what may be more important than academia, Rainbow? >> He sipped his coffee. << The musical ... opening night was a success, I suppose. >> Torvald let out a gruff cough. << The revolution went off without a hitch, and surprisingly enough everyone did a very proletarian job. But-- >> Torvald gripped his coffee cup tightly. He had to tell someone. << You were out! >> Torvald's voice rose. << You must have missed it, you poor working class soul! For you see! >> Torvald immediately jumped out of his seat and stood on the table. << Our Professor Julius got into an extremely dangerous car crash at the after part-AH F-F-F-F-F-F-FUUUUUUUUCK-- >> He felt hot liquid among his shoes and socks -- seeping dangerously into his ankle. Torvald immediately fell off the table, sending a thunderous rumble along it, rolling onto the wooden floor on his side as the scalding hot coffee spilled atop his feet like acid.
Alas I am behind on this. Two things it is, then! Spoiler: god why is she missing a shoe (work in progress but not actually because I am putting it off oops) Spoiler: Some NPC from an RP I am a part of (funky colouring and line testing)
Ah yes the enigma sings, and this is a song that combines the rocking of the previous songs with Fearless' beautiful slow serenade. +1 to everything
