Willard H. Wright (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alethiological) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-08-15 08:20 am
alethiological) wrote in undergrounds2015-08-15 08:20 am
Entry tags:
August Free Post; I'm on a Carr kick I'm sorry
[A; Till Jet Lag Do Us Part]
It's just one of the usual boring evenings on the stations, waiting for your train to arrive. The usual terrible conditions, unhelpful staff, and random hobos sleeping on the benches. Or random tourists passed out from jet lag waiting for the train. Maybe you're one of those people nice enough to stop someone from stealing a suitcase. More likely, you're the one stealing it.
In any case, you're immediately treated to the siren sounds of accented swears and the person you are hypothetically trying to rob glaring at you. Gold eyes are suitibly intense for that. "What time is it?"
---
[B; Behind the Crimson Blinds]
Hillingdon is known for many things, mostly the fact everyone in it is crazy, or assholes, or both. What is less known is that, like any proper association of crazy assholes, they keep records. Kills, assignments, random receipts, half-finished letters. A pit of madness no sane person would enter of their own free will. Said Will can be found in the pit of madness, surrounded by piles of organized papers and flipping through another one with the ease of a mindless drone.
---
[C; And So To (Almost) Murder - first come, only served]
Later in the month, Lewisham is now a safe haven to the Fae. Which is a total load of nonsense, who leaves overseas for a month just to come back to their claimed No Man's Land being filled with a bunch of flighty, irresponsible monsters? They don't even have the decency to be subtle about it. Which is surprising, considering how subtle the takeover itself was.
Someone else masterminded it, obviously. Getting a name is easy. All that needs to be done is follow protocol: get one of the abominations to confess, remove the sin as is required, track down the one responsible and Fix It. It's just another in a myriad series of mistakes, and Our Purpose is to fix mistakes.
The only thing you hear is a sharp shout, cut off far too fast, but no one minds one person missing. Unless you do, which means you find one (count, 1) Fae held out swordpoint by one (count, 1) psychopath, bright gold eyes and black roiling smog. It also means you get immediately glared at because, honestly now, who interrupts an Equalizing. Rude much.
---
[D; Wildcard]
> insert words receive subpar tags
((apologies for slowtags for aforementioned reasons))
It's just one of the usual boring evenings on the stations, waiting for your train to arrive. The usual terrible conditions, unhelpful staff, and random hobos sleeping on the benches. Or random tourists passed out from jet lag waiting for the train. Maybe you're one of those people nice enough to stop someone from stealing a suitcase. More likely, you're the one stealing it.
In any case, you're immediately treated to the siren sounds of accented swears and the person you are hypothetically trying to rob glaring at you. Gold eyes are suitibly intense for that. "What time is it?"
---
[B; Behind the Crimson Blinds]
Hillingdon is known for many things, mostly the fact everyone in it is crazy, or assholes, or both. What is less known is that, like any proper association of crazy assholes, they keep records. Kills, assignments, random receipts, half-finished letters. A pit of madness no sane person would enter of their own free will. Said Will can be found in the pit of madness, surrounded by piles of organized papers and flipping through another one with the ease of a mindless drone.
---
[C; And So To (Almost) Murder - first come, only served]
Later in the month, Lewisham is now a safe haven to the Fae. Which is a total load of nonsense, who leaves overseas for a month just to come back to their claimed No Man's Land being filled with a bunch of flighty, irresponsible monsters? They don't even have the decency to be subtle about it. Which is surprising, considering how subtle the takeover itself was.
Someone else masterminded it, obviously. Getting a name is easy. All that needs to be done is follow protocol: get one of the abominations to confess, remove the sin as is required, track down the one responsible and Fix It. It's just another in a myriad series of mistakes, and Our Purpose is to fix mistakes.
The only thing you hear is a sharp shout, cut off far too fast, but no one minds one person missing. Unless you do, which means you find one (count, 1) Fae held out swordpoint by one (count, 1) psychopath, bright gold eyes and black roiling smog. It also means you get immediately glared at because, honestly now, who interrupts an Equalizing. Rude much.
---
[D; Wildcard]
> insert words receive subpar tags
((apologies for slowtags for aforementioned reasons))
no subject
And then there's someone interrupting. The usual instinct from home comes up: demotion, smash their head open with a paperweight, find a new useless intern to try and keep pace with the proper Weapons of His name. There may (definitely) be a moment here where the feeling in the air is barely restrained anger management issues.
Right. Right. You're not in America. Don't have the clearance to dispose of useless garbage subordinates here. Do baristas deliver here? Stupid England and their ridiculous European nonsense.
...Still better than America, though.
"Don't pick on my hobbies," with just enough inflection on the deadpan to tell it's a joke. Maybe. He still turns around to shoot the interloper a blank stare. "What year are you looking for?"
no subject
"Faolan. Faolan O'Neill. That would be the name on the report. It should be, anyway. I was the one who filed it. My case and all." He shrugs slightly. Yeah, he's probably part of the reason to blame that it's all a mess. What can he say, this whole paperwork thing isn't really his forte.
no subject
"Somewhere in there. The records were originally by rank, then surname." And if the name is familiar then- Faolan earns that 'huh' noise one gets when a mystery of the universe just aligned itself into making perfect sense.
"You're one of the ones that actually works. Your contributions for that year begin around a third in."
Not that he's a higher up, not that he's on old hand, nothing that would make any logical sense. It's that Faolan actually (attempted to) file proper reports about his taken assignments. Paperwork is Incredibly Important, after all.
my apologies for the delay, the work week is killer :x
'One of the ones that actually works,' he had said, and he has to quirk an ironic smile at that one. Well, that he does. "What can I say," Faolan says, as he sifts through the papers. "I may not always get it right, but I like to at least try and follow protocol. Set a good example and such. Figure someone has to, in a place like this."
He glances up at the other man. "What about you?" he inquires of him. "What have you done, to land yourself in the position of having to organize this lot? Don't tell me that you volunteered," he adds, cracking something of a wry smile at him.