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maskormenacelogs2015-05-01 03:43 pm
infomodder) wrote in maskormenacelogs2015-05-01 03:43 pm
Entry tags:
- jaime reyes | blue beetle,
- † alistair krei | n/a,
- † chrollo lucilfer | n/a,
- † clark kent | superman,
- † dorian gray | n/a,
- † grey | n/a,
- † hank pym | giant-man,
- † hank schrader | n/a,
- † john watson | n/a,
- † kate bishop | hawkeye,
- † ken kaneki | one eyed king,
- † kristoff bjorgman | n/a,
- † matthew lin | abduxel,
- † the red plains rider | n/a,
- † will graham | wolf trap
[OPEN] you see, i am the wolf, and this dirty little piggy lives inside of me
WHO: Will Graham + YOU!
WHERE: All over
WHEN: Month of May (he will not be around the 15th-19th)
WHAT: Making friends. Losing friends. Getting experience with his shadow stag power. Aggressively playing pool. Fishing. Stuff and things, Coral.
WARNINGS: Standard Hannibal warnings apply (cannibalism and murder and sadness and season 2 spoilers). If anything else crops up, I will edit to add.
NOTE: Everything's been written up in prose, but if you'd prefer to do action, just reply with it and I'll match! And if you'd like a specific starter, shoot me a PM or something and I'll write it up in comments.
I. AROUND NONAH: Are we out of the woods? Are we in the clear yet?
He'd have gone to De Chima, had he not been there so recently for work, had he been sure he could keep himself from stopping by the old house. Worse, going into the old house, seeing if Mike Parker was there, perhaps checking in on his religiously conflicted roommate. Going to Virginia for leisure time is bound to end poorly, bound to have him finally giving up and checking in on this universe's version of Wolf Trap. Better to avoid all that inevitable mess by going somewhere else entirely.
So he opts for Nonah, and after going through the city itself, finds a nice patch of woods that doesn't seem too used. Seems more like the place where joggers go for morning and evening routines than anything popular, where parents might bring their children or couples might take to for a quiet, slow stroll. Once the noises fade to nothing but nature, he loses his shadow to its new, stag self, to get a better feel of how it works. They'll walk side-by-side as much as the stag decides to explore, bolting for a particularly playful squirrel, scraping his antlers on a nearby tree for reasons Will doesn't want to think about. Same with any rolling in mud. Probably just enjoying his freedom to be a strange, shadow stag; that's the story Will chooses to take on and believe as true. Every now and then, it might smack as more dog than deer, stumpy tail wagging, but Will doesn't pay that any mind, either. The thing's never far out of his sight—until something (or someone) truly interesting and not yet in Will's line of sight comes around, of course. Leave it to Will to not find this of too much concern and continue to take his time, walking fashion disaster that he is. Don't worry! That shadowy creature means no harm, and the guy following after who doesn't cast a shadow at all despite whatever sunlight is around has covered himself in a truly terrible plaid shirt and jeans that are two or three wears from being worn out. No threats here.
II. HEROPA: have you been herring a lot about the hook line and tinker?
Will doesn't work at the bait shop anymore, not technically. He is, however, still the owner, and that means he has to be involved. He's a little more involved than some of his employees might actually like, but at least whenever there's a minor issue plaguing the place, he can generally take care of it. If he can't, he knows who can. So every now and then, for anyone stopping by (or just looking in), they'll find a still plaid-clad Will Graham sporting a ridiculous hat that's clearly been worn by him for a while, however off and on. It fits his head, and the fishing hook stuck on the brim of it has been there so long it's created a dent. But Will isn't behind the counter or going through the shelves to fix them. Nah, he's the guy in the corner on a stepladder fixing some busted part of the ceiling or wall, or fiddling with wiring. He rather looks like the repairman.
If someone stops by to see him, specifically, here he is. If someone stops by with a question that the staff either can't answer or doesn't feel equipped to answer as well as Will can, he'll be pointed out as well. Yes, go ask the guy making an effort to center the WRIGGLE ROOM sign after it last fell about fishing seasons. That guy who's cleaning the front windows in the wake of the Flare and dragons alike will know far better than the person behind the counter why the hell the lures are different colors. Go pester him, he has the answers, he's the owner.
III. HEROPA 2 NAUTICAL BOOGALOO: We ain’t only fishin’
Will owes plenty of people fishing trips. Want to go fishing? Who the hell wouldn't? His preference is for standing around all day in waders, but if someone would rather go out, he'll get a boat. How accommodating.
IV. HEROPA 3 RETURN TO THE HOMELAND: Flowers and trees depress and frankly bore me
There is a house with a yard that's well kept but not much to speak of just yet. The dogwood tree in the center of it is in need of some nourishment and time without the world being in ruins to get back to its former glory, and the scattered beds of flowers weren't in any particular order. Until today, that is. Will's out with his sleeves rolled right over his elbows, bearded dog providing help by doing the best thing he can in this situation: lazing underneath some shade and taking a nap. He's got all the tools he needs, pots with plants waiting to be transferred over, dirty hands bare instead of covered with gloves. He's not dealing with anything too thorny or prickly, so there's really no need for that, is there?
Except for the fact that the soil he's using contains manure, and says so right on the bags waiting to be tossed out with the rest of the trash. Whatever, it's all as organic as organic gets, he'll just wash them more thoroughly than usual and everything will be fine.
V. MAURTIA FALLS LIBRARY: Take a look, it's in a book!
He isn't even certain if he can check out anything, considering where he lives and all, but he's been through the Heropa library more times than he can count. It's good to expand one's horizons, isn't it? Maurtia Falls could have something on their shelves Heropa doesn't, so while he's there and following the rule of minding his own damn business, he stops by just to see. Curiosity isn't always a bad thing, after all. Will pointedly avoids any sections that have to do with crime, true or fictional. Fiction is supposed to give him an escape, and hopefully nonfiction will teach him about something that isn't his usual. Why even bother looking at books that won't do either? It's always much better to bump into someone who has a stack of books that relate to dogs, fish, the history of railroads, and what appears to be the first in a series about magical cats that can travel through space and have kept their secret from humans for all of eternity, isn't it? Because that's what Will's going for. Magical alien cats.
VI. BARS, BARS EVERYWHERE: He drinks a whiskey drink, he drinks a vodka drink
Will keeps a rotation of bars in his head, places with a little more shade than usual. No loud and booming music, no crowd of youths looking to get their groove on. Will's more comfortable in the quiet sorts where the jukebox plays "oldies" and no one has any complaints about it. These are the nights were he slaps his watch over that tattoo to keep himself as much of a nobody as, well, everybody else in the dim, sometimes smoky lighting. His pool game isn't anything to write home about, but he's steadily getting better, with the goal to one day wipe the floor with Hank Schrader. And because some of these bars are the places that don't ask questions, or have family members of the owners (or their friends) coming through just a year or so shy of the legal drinking age, Will keeps his job and this aspect of his life completely separate unless there is a real need for someone to step in. He's not a complete hog at the pool tables, though, and some affable competition is bound to only help improve his game. Loser buys the drinks—what a great deal.
WHERE: All over
WHEN: Month of May (he will not be around the 15th-19th)
WHAT: Making friends. Losing friends. Getting experience with his shadow stag power. Aggressively playing pool. Fishing. Stuff and things, Coral.
WARNINGS: Standard Hannibal warnings apply (cannibalism and murder and sadness and season 2 spoilers). If anything else crops up, I will edit to add.
NOTE: Everything's been written up in prose, but if you'd prefer to do action, just reply with it and I'll match! And if you'd like a specific starter, shoot me a PM or something and I'll write it up in comments.
I. AROUND NONAH: Are we out of the woods? Are we in the clear yet?
He'd have gone to De Chima, had he not been there so recently for work, had he been sure he could keep himself from stopping by the old house. Worse, going into the old house, seeing if Mike Parker was there, perhaps checking in on his religiously conflicted roommate. Going to Virginia for leisure time is bound to end poorly, bound to have him finally giving up and checking in on this universe's version of Wolf Trap. Better to avoid all that inevitable mess by going somewhere else entirely.
So he opts for Nonah, and after going through the city itself, finds a nice patch of woods that doesn't seem too used. Seems more like the place where joggers go for morning and evening routines than anything popular, where parents might bring their children or couples might take to for a quiet, slow stroll. Once the noises fade to nothing but nature, he loses his shadow to its new, stag self, to get a better feel of how it works. They'll walk side-by-side as much as the stag decides to explore, bolting for a particularly playful squirrel, scraping his antlers on a nearby tree for reasons Will doesn't want to think about. Same with any rolling in mud. Probably just enjoying his freedom to be a strange, shadow stag; that's the story Will chooses to take on and believe as true. Every now and then, it might smack as more dog than deer, stumpy tail wagging, but Will doesn't pay that any mind, either. The thing's never far out of his sight—until something (or someone) truly interesting and not yet in Will's line of sight comes around, of course. Leave it to Will to not find this of too much concern and continue to take his time, walking fashion disaster that he is. Don't worry! That shadowy creature means no harm, and the guy following after who doesn't cast a shadow at all despite whatever sunlight is around has covered himself in a truly terrible plaid shirt and jeans that are two or three wears from being worn out. No threats here.
II. HEROPA: have you been herring a lot about the hook line and tinker?
Will doesn't work at the bait shop anymore, not technically. He is, however, still the owner, and that means he has to be involved. He's a little more involved than some of his employees might actually like, but at least whenever there's a minor issue plaguing the place, he can generally take care of it. If he can't, he knows who can. So every now and then, for anyone stopping by (or just looking in), they'll find a still plaid-clad Will Graham sporting a ridiculous hat that's clearly been worn by him for a while, however off and on. It fits his head, and the fishing hook stuck on the brim of it has been there so long it's created a dent. But Will isn't behind the counter or going through the shelves to fix them. Nah, he's the guy in the corner on a stepladder fixing some busted part of the ceiling or wall, or fiddling with wiring. He rather looks like the repairman.
If someone stops by to see him, specifically, here he is. If someone stops by with a question that the staff either can't answer or doesn't feel equipped to answer as well as Will can, he'll be pointed out as well. Yes, go ask the guy making an effort to center the WRIGGLE ROOM sign after it last fell about fishing seasons. That guy who's cleaning the front windows in the wake of the Flare and dragons alike will know far better than the person behind the counter why the hell the lures are different colors. Go pester him, he has the answers, he's the owner.
III. HEROPA 2 NAUTICAL BOOGALOO: We ain’t only fishin’
Will owes plenty of people fishing trips. Want to go fishing? Who the hell wouldn't? His preference is for standing around all day in waders, but if someone would rather go out, he'll get a boat. How accommodating.
IV. HEROPA 3 RETURN TO THE HOMELAND: Flowers and trees depress and frankly bore me
There is a house with a yard that's well kept but not much to speak of just yet. The dogwood tree in the center of it is in need of some nourishment and time without the world being in ruins to get back to its former glory, and the scattered beds of flowers weren't in any particular order. Until today, that is. Will's out with his sleeves rolled right over his elbows, bearded dog providing help by doing the best thing he can in this situation: lazing underneath some shade and taking a nap. He's got all the tools he needs, pots with plants waiting to be transferred over, dirty hands bare instead of covered with gloves. He's not dealing with anything too thorny or prickly, so there's really no need for that, is there?
Except for the fact that the soil he's using contains manure, and says so right on the bags waiting to be tossed out with the rest of the trash. Whatever, it's all as organic as organic gets, he'll just wash them more thoroughly than usual and everything will be fine.
V. MAURTIA FALLS LIBRARY: Take a look, it's in a book!
He isn't even certain if he can check out anything, considering where he lives and all, but he's been through the Heropa library more times than he can count. It's good to expand one's horizons, isn't it? Maurtia Falls could have something on their shelves Heropa doesn't, so while he's there and following the rule of minding his own damn business, he stops by just to see. Curiosity isn't always a bad thing, after all. Will pointedly avoids any sections that have to do with crime, true or fictional. Fiction is supposed to give him an escape, and hopefully nonfiction will teach him about something that isn't his usual. Why even bother looking at books that won't do either? It's always much better to bump into someone who has a stack of books that relate to dogs, fish, the history of railroads, and what appears to be the first in a series about magical cats that can travel through space and have kept their secret from humans for all of eternity, isn't it? Because that's what Will's going for. Magical alien cats.
VI. BARS, BARS EVERYWHERE: He drinks a whiskey drink, he drinks a vodka drink
Will keeps a rotation of bars in his head, places with a little more shade than usual. No loud and booming music, no crowd of youths looking to get their groove on. Will's more comfortable in the quiet sorts where the jukebox plays "oldies" and no one has any complaints about it. These are the nights were he slaps his watch over that tattoo to keep himself as much of a nobody as, well, everybody else in the dim, sometimes smoky lighting. His pool game isn't anything to write home about, but he's steadily getting better, with the goal to one day wipe the floor with Hank Schrader. And because some of these bars are the places that don't ask questions, or have family members of the owners (or their friends) coming through just a year or so shy of the legal drinking age, Will keeps his job and this aspect of his life completely separate unless there is a real need for someone to step in. He's not a complete hog at the pool tables, though, and some affable competition is bound to only help improve his game. Loser buys the drinks—what a great deal.
no subject
That's what gets Will's attention, what earns a quicker walk, and—
Well, this should be fan-fucking-tastic.
"Doctor Pym?" Absolutely fantastic, as Will casts noticeably casts no shadow and he's sure a scientist could have fun with that one. Perhaps have fun with the fact that even though Will speaks and clearly has some sort of relationship with the stag, neither of them pay the other a lick of attention. The stag is too focused on keeping where he is and Will's too focused on Hank. What a pair. "I didn't peg you as an outdoorsy person."
It's almost like they've both had issues with not having the other figured out, go figure.
no subject
"Mr. Graham."
Play it cool, Hank. Act casual. Will Graham isn't a telepath or anything. As far as he knows. There's no reason for him to suspect that he just released a mechanical hornet drone for mass surveillance. Act natural, in nature! It's the easiest thing, right?
Hank smiles and lifts his shoulder, stuffing his hands in the light jacket he has on. He breaths in and looks around.
"Fresh air, green scenery. You don't have to be an outdoor person to like any of that."
Deflect, deflect!
"And look what I run into. That is some animal you have with you."
no subject
Some animal in question turns to look between the two of them. He might be Will's shadow, but that doesn't mean he automatically knows what Will knows. He can read signs just fine—they haven't stumbled on a complete stranger, so this might not be so bad. It might be absolutely terrible, too, the kind of people Will runs with, but no need to go for the worst possible outcome right off the bat, is there?
"Nice day out, that's true." The profile of Hank Pym is quickly evolving: Hank can appreciate the outdoors without being an outdoorsy person, how profound. "This is a...power."
He waves a hand in some animal's direction before pocketing it.
"We don't have stags like this where I'm from, though. One of a kind."
Hank doesn't seem too baffled by the shadowy feathered mess, and Will tilts his head, brow furrowed. He's not going to outright say that, not yet, and isn't going to ask if this sort of weird shit is something Hank is more than used to for one reason or another, but...it's present despite not being verbalized.
How weird is your world, Hank?
no subject
Hank stares into the direction his drone went into and then his watch. He has about another 15 minutes before it comes back. Although this would be a great time to test out the homing function, he takes it one step at a time. Wouldn't want to skewer any results that comes in. He takes a few steps forward, nearing the stag by Will, a few more steps would bring it too close but he feels safe for now.
"A power? That's remarkable. Is it a stag the natural manifestation of your power or a chosen form?"
Will Graham, a fisherman, the forensic scientist, and a police officer. And he never thought to ask if this rather ordinary person has powers. Go figure.
"Can I touch it? Is it safe?" It's not a question for permission so much a question of whether it's actually real - tangible for a hand to rest on.