maskormenacelogs | Beware the One-Armed Man!

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Beware the One-Armed Man!

WHO: The residents of Residence #004! (

transuniversal,

throneinmyside,

foreshadower,

juuustice111 (maybe?))
WHERE: Residence #004
WHEN: forward dated to the morning of Saturday the 16th of August
WHAT: Desmond is having a little trouble around the house. Perfect time to get to know his housemates!
WARNINGS: SHENANIGANS

"Shit."

Desmond sighed as he watched the yolks of the eggs he was cooking spill out into the pan. Oh well. Over-hard it was. So much for dipping his toast into nice runny yolks. He never realized how hard it was to do some stuff with just one arm. Normally he'd have had his breakfast on the table by now. Never mind everyone's. He hadn't really spoken to the others yet... Or even really been introduced that he knew of. When he'd first been dropped off he'd been reeling from the painkillers he'd been prescribed. Now that he'd been here a while and he had a new prescription that didn't make him feel hazy and sleepy, he figured the best way to make up for it was to make breakfast.

Which wasn't going so well, to say the least. The bacon was probably going to get cold at this rate.

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Margaery woke to the smells of something pleasant cooking in the house. She had been attempting to make her own food, Jesse had left her various things and taught her at least how to use the microwave but it wasn't the same as the food back home.

It was a weekend which meant that she had nowhere to be for the day, she had planned to explore more around Heropa and perhaps do some shopping. She took her time dressing as usual though, pulling on a skirt and blouse before pinning her hair back slightly. She gave herself a smile in the mirror before heading out of her room and downstairs, peeing into the kitchen.

"Are you alright?" she inquired as she stepped in just in time to hear Desmond cursing. She hadn't had a chance to meet her housemates yet, he would be the first she had run into. "If you need assistance, I would be happy to help!"

He glanced over his shoulder. Whoa. There was a kid staying here? She looked like she was still in high school. Talk about shitty luck, being taken away from your parents and friends. Desmond sure as hell never had a normal life, but that didn't mean he couldn't sympathize.

"Uh, sure. You can make toast, right?" He plated his eggs awkwardly, grabbing some bacon from the paper towel covered lump on the plate sitting on the counter to put with it before he finally offered her his hand. "I'm Desmond, by the way. I just got here."

Shade came next into the kitchen. He was -- well -- Shade was an odd one. Up all hours of the night, constantly flitting from one room to another, occasionally he cooked, but lately he'd been far too distracted to cook more often than late at night. He didn't really work that much (but instead spent quite a bit of time at the library recommending books written by old friends) but he did enjoy being... well, obnoxious.

In his own, shady, way. He stepped in mid-conversation, and surveyed the kitchen with a concerned eye -- never mind the fact that he was in full Victorian garb, and peering over his sunglasses like it wasn't first thing in the morning.

"Did someone declare war on the kitchen?" he asked, looking it over. Shade couldn't help it, he was a bit of a snob, and forever concerned with the state of the cooking facilities.

"Margaery Tyrell," Margaery said with a warm smile as she took his hand in hers. Shaking hands wasn't something she was used to, mistaking the gesture. "I'm not quite sure, perhaps you could show me?" she asked hopefully, she was still learning how things in the kitchen worked. She believed she had mastered the microwave though.

She was started by Shade's appearance, his appearance was strange but then again most things in this world were where to her. "If war has been waged on the kitchen, perhaps we may work to bring peace to it?" she suggested as she picked up the bread for Desmond to show her how to work the toaster.

"Desmond. Nice to meet you, Margaery." He shook her hand once before the stranger stepped in.

Desmond winced at the man's words. "Yeah, sorry for making a mess. I'll clean up when I'm done. I just... Well. I'm new here and I figured the best way to pitch in would be to cook breakfast or something." He took the bread, taking it over to the toaster, a two-slice white plastic thing. After making sure the sliders weren't too far to the right, he put two slices of bread in and pushed the lever down. He didn't think too much about her not knowing how to make toast. Maybe she had one of those moms that loved to cook or something.

"When they pop up, spread some butter on them and put them on a plate," he said to her.

The brief toast lesson concluded, he approached his other housemate with his hand extended. "Desmond Miles. I hope you like bacon and eggs?"

Shade, of course, was ever polite. Part of that Victorian sensibility coming out, and he reached out to shake his hand in return, the half-amused smile on his face. "I'm british, of course I enjoy them," he responded, as if that were enough.

Personally, Shade didn't mind cooking for the entire household, if he had a chance, but his idea of cooking was somewhere far and away from this, and a few steps shy of Hannibal Lecter -- particularly in presentation. Then again, Shade ate well.

"So, Mr. Miles, if you're new, why don't you tell me what you think of this so far," he paused, and turned, including the other. "You as well, I don't believe we've had much a chance to speak."

Margaery leaned over to watch him put the toast in the toaster with amazement, holding her hand over the slot to feel the heat now radiating up. She listened to them introducing themselves.

She turned around when Shade addressed her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "I do not believe we've met, I'm Margaery," she said warmly. "I haven't been here very long myself, this world is quite a bit different than the one I am from."

Desmond sighed. "I don't know what to believe. All I know is, they're hiding something. And I hate being jerked around by people who know more than I do. The same thing happened back home, and it turned into a giant mess."

He buttered the toast as it popped up and handed the finished plate to Margaery. It was supposed to be his, but...well, she was just a kid. Brain food and all. "Here. Tell me what you think."

"I've seen you here and there," he said, simply. Shade was... something of a drifter, in the home. The sort that didn't sleep, and ate only out of pleasure, he didn't necessarily need to stay, but he did out of enjoyment of the fact. Because he could, essentially.

"But you are correct, they're hiding something. Anyone with half a brain would tell you this, but..." he shook his head, somehow moving to the fridge in a smooth motion that didn't really look as much like motion as it did just appearing there. "It takes some deep investigation, to find such things."

"Thank you, you are most kind," Margaery said as she took the plate carefully in both hands as he handed it to her. She looked up at Shade, listening to them talk. He was very strange, she wondered how she hadn't seen him around the house often.

She took a bite of toast, marveling at the richness of the butter. It was delicious, though it seemed to be a common enough food here.

Desmond stared at the man. Weird guy. Really weird. Maybe he was just showing off his powers. But either way...

"So I guess you've been doing some digging of your own?" he asked. "By the way, I was planning to cook you breakfast too, but if you want something else..."

"Well then," he stepped back from the fridge, in a lethargic motion. As if he were asking for Desmond to impress him, and he was. Shade was difficult to impress -- and more difficult to feed, being a gourmand, but he'd hold that under wraps, at least to be nice.

He was certain it would be fine, but not outlandish. "Please do, and no, I've hardly investigated. What will come, will come. As much as I would prefer to find all the answers, to get home, I'm not the heroic, intrepid sort, to worm my way in, and find the hidden answers," he wiggled his fingers, like he was describing bugs.

Moving, he sat on a barstool, and waited, more patiently than probably it warranted.

Margaery took a seat on the other barstool next to Shade, carefully as she wasn't used to them. Her plate was set carefully on the counter, her expression focused. "You must be very patient," she said to Shade before finishing off her toast.

"Wouldn't you want to do everything you could to go home though?" she asked, curious.

Desmond went to the stove again, readying the pan for their housemate's breakfast. (And really, he was even more determined not to break the yolks this time.) "I don't know about you two, but... I want to know the truth more than anything. It's...kind of a habit." A habit gained through three ancestors' worth of trusting in the wrong people and almost ending up dead because of it. "It's obvious things aren't what they seem here. And I'm actually getting pretty good about 'worming around' and finding stuff people don't want others to find."

He glanced behind him at the strange man, then idly turned back to the pan to crack two eggs into it. "You know, you never told me your name."

"Indeed I didn't," he replied airily, before turning back to Margaery, with a smile that was almost wistful, and homesick. "Of course I do. I miss my Opal more than anything in either universe, but she will wait for me, and I have all the time in the world to allow them to figure out a way to take me home," he he let his fingers dance against the table, animated, while he spoke. Like he was telling a story. "While there are many others with such expertise, I'm afraid mine is limited to literature, and horticulture, and neither of those will be of much use."

Perhaps add thieving, and how to work with shadows, to the mix, but such things weren't often left for polite company. "And you both may call me the Shade, and I apologize for not being so present. I've been rather...distracted, as of late."

Planning to return to villainy was the sort of private decision one must make on their own.

"Shade, it is a pleasure to meet you at last then," Margaery said with a smile. He was certainly a strange one but that only made her more intrigued. She wasn't about to rush to judgement with either of them but she leaned over the counter, looking up at Desmond.

"Have you found anything of the such here so far?" she asked, curious, watching him making the eggs. While she knew how to make a few simple things and use a microwave, watching the eggs fry in the pan over a stove with no fire was new experience for her.

Oh, great. Another asshole. Desmond turned so he could roll his eyes at Shade without him knowing. Hopefully. He slid the eggs off onto the plate and dropped a few more pieces of raw bacon in to cook.

"Not yet. I haven't been able to do much because of my arm. It's annoying. But I have the powers I got from the portal... And even one from back home that might help."

"And what sorts of powers are those?" Shade asked, from his seat on the barstool. One leg crossed over the other, and his hands folded over his knees, he was the picture of calm interest, and even the smile was pleasant. Oh, he was most certainly an asshole.

"I think the fact that the porter provides them is fascinating, don't you? I had to work a great deal harder to get them where I'm from." If he didn't laugh about it, he may have cried. He most certainly did sigh, a little sadly. "There are some where I come from that would kill to be here."

"What can you both do?" Margaery asked, curious. Her own power was still so strange to her, to think that she could grow and manipulate roses so easily. She still hadn't seen anyone else use their own powers, other than a glimpse of Shade's a moment ago.

She leaned over the counter a little to look at the bacon, breathing in the scent. It was delicious and it reminded her just how hungry she still was.

"...I kind of have a bit of a sixth sense," he admitted. "It's not 'on' all the time, it's just... Kind of like...echolocation mixed with a bit of premonition. If you hid something around town, as long as I knew what I was looking for, I'd probably be able to find it. My reflexes are stronger than they were back home, and now I can see people's memories by touching their stuff."

Desmond popped some toast into the toaster and began on his own breakfast, finally. "They're all kind of handy, I guess."

Shade waved a hand. "I'm immortal," he said simply, as if it were no thing. "As well as...control the shadows," he added, after a brief pause, again, looking down at the food with a pause. That wasn't all of it, of course. Shade was, after all, not just the type that controlled the shadows, but he was the shadows.

He idly kicked a foot out, against the table, where it resounded with a soft thunk. "So if I need to...locate something, I would ask you," he pointed to Desmond, before smiling. "And what do you do?"

"Me?" Margaery asked with some surprise, she didn't consider her particular power anything useful or interesting. At least not compared with theirs. She reached over to take the rose from a vase on the counter she had put there easier. The bud was only half blossomed but in Margaery's hand, it's petals slowly began to open, the rose stem becoming a vine which wrapped around her wrist and slowly began to move down her arm before snaking across the table top.

"I can't say it's as useful as being able to find things or control shadows though."

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Beware the One-Armed Man!

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