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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
“I suppose I am.” He sighs as he looks down at the books. “I… felt pretty powerless during the mess with the virus. I didn’t know what to do, how to help. It’s all over now but it doesn’t make me any less nervous about it.” It’s probably pretty weird for a reporter from Kansas to be talking as if he had the weight of the city in his shoulders. He couldn’t have possibly done more than anyone else, right? But luckily for Clark most people don’t think twice about it: that’s just Smallville for you.
“I guess I’m reading these to calm myself down, in a way.” He shrugs. Then back to Will’s peculiar stack of books. “Do you need me to take these books out to my name so you can get them?”
no subject
Weird or not, Will understands. Somewhat. There are people in the world who genuinely want to do good as much as there are people in the world (worlds, really) who genuinely want to do everything possible to strip it of goodness. Any thoughts he might have had about a reporter wanting to help and do something being strange would be washed away, regardless, at the question. Clark Kent is just that upstanding.
"Uh—" Random acts of kindness, Will is almost aghast. "I didn't...check to see if being Registered meant it would carry over through every city, so I don't know, but—if you're okay with it and I can't, then. I'd appreciate it, yes."
And he will, in fact, return the books promptly, provided some disaster doesn't happen in the time between to prevent him from returning. Like, say, half the world being set on fire or the Black Death coming through the Porter in a humanoid form to finish them all off.
no subject
Will, put a hold on your overactive imagination before it gets all of them killed.
“Of course I’m okay with it, it’s not biggie. I’m sure you would do the same for me back home.” And he says that with no trace of irony, or not expecting Will to agree or disagree. Will has been nothing but helpful with him so far even if it made him visibly uncomfortable sometimes, so he’s a bro in Clark’s eyes.
“But how about you answer me a question in return of the favor? Namely: alien magic cats? Really?"
no subject
The smile that takes over his face when Clark voices that he believes in Will's ability to not give a damn about the validity of the library's legal system should give away that he, too, considers Clark a bro. It only gets worse when he asks after the book, Will even laughs, however briefly, and he picks it up to reveal the back cover. Which has a picture of a cat in an astronaut helmet and big font about the struggle to save their world, their species...after they get that last nap in. Look at it, Clark.
"What about it?" Other than the whole this looks absurd and stupid, Will. "April would have a field day with this, and I want to be there for it. So..." He turns, shrugging his good shoulder like nothing is out of the ordinary. "Really, yeah."
no subject
That’s what gets Clark’s interest, really. If he hadn’t ended up enjoying the thrill of finding information he might have ended as a romance novelist under a cheesy pseudonym and then where would we be?
“If she likes bad literature…“ And he’s sorry, he’s totally judging the book by it’s cover but he feels like in this particular case he can make an exception to the golden rule. “I can give her a lot of books to destroy. You never mentioned her when you were talking about people from your world, though.”
no subject
"Girlfriend, yes. Went unmentioned because we're not from the same world." Which is good and bad. Good because Will is positive that Hannibal Lecter would be completely overwhelmed by someone like April and she wouldn't last long; bad because...well, if she was in Indiana and stayed there, Hannibal Lecter would be none the wiser. What would stop Will from going on a visit, what if, what if? Will puts the stack back together and shuffles it under one arm, not at all perturbed by claiming a relationship to be exactly what it is. Being honest is a real delicacy. "And if you want those books really destroyed, I'm sure April would be glad to. Could have a book bonfire."
Ray Bradbury would not approve.
no subject
He tries to imagine living with the knowledge that Lois could just disappear at any given moment, knowing she could reappear and have forgotten him. Would he be able to do it? He doubts it, he doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to putting logic in front of visceral emotions, as far as Lois is concerned. But! Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, as he does. Will isn’t talking about marriage, he’s talking about having a girlfriend.
Hm.
“Considering I just offered to let you take those book to my name I’d appreciate it they don’t end up in a bonfire.” Despite his inner thoughts, he keeps his tone calm. Teasing. With humor. Which makes the next question he has taste like ashes in his mouth.
“Do you have a moment to go somewhere slightly more private? Libraries are horrible for that. Everything you say has a weird echo that travels everywhere when you’re forced to be quiet.”
no subject
Of course either could vanish for good, and that would be a painful experience, but if they held back out of fear, who found any victories there? Will had already lived one life practically bludgeoned by fear, and it was a shitty, bloody mess. Why continue that misery?
Give him a few weeks to change that whole marriage aspect; he's working on it.
"These won't, no. You have my word." Speaking of words that taste like ash in the mouth: those. He drops his voice though, edges in a little closer as they walk so he isn't difficult to hear (sweet winter child Will Graham). Is this some liaison business, did Clark run into Chilton again, is it something completely not at all sinister? "And sure, I don't have any other plans for the next couple of hours. Where do you wanna go?"
no subject
“We can get our books first, then we’ll be free to chat.”
no subject
Will thinks for a moment about the rest of the books in his selection, decides that Clark has already seen the worst of them, and then shifts just enough to hand them over. Slide them on top (or bottom, depending on how Clark feels about being seen first and foremost with magical alien cats) of what Clark has and makes to wander through a few aisles before he goes to wait the entrance. He might be goingat this a bit too much like law enforcement—someone buying cigarettes or alcohol for another party underage wouldn't be seen at the front counter with them if they wanted to pull off their little stunt—but oh well. Clark can be assumed to simply have a varied selection (and probably a young teenager at home who loves some weird cat books), and no librarian needs to feel aggravated by the insult, or stressed if they should call the two of them on or it not.
Except he's also thinking about loitering, so rather than stand around just outside the building like a shady guy on the look out for services rendered, he opts to stay inside and do his loitering. But hey, he's reading their pamphlet on Where Does Your Library Fine Money Go? as if it's the most interesting piece of information he's ever come across, so there's nothing to complain about here.
no subject
Clark doesn’t take long to get the books- and he definitely doesn’t try to hide them. He visits the library often enough to have a pretty weird list of checked books on his own, books on the plague are going to go along just fine with alien cats.
“Well… there we go.” He hands Will his books, putting his own in a leather bag he got for exactly this. They might be temporary books, but they are still his own and he will treat them with the respect they deserve. You don’t become a writer if you don’t have a healthy respect for the written word. Once he’s done he sighs, unsure on how to begin his questions without it looking like he’s interrogating the man.
“I… just wanted to know if you have done any headway on Freddie’s case.”
no subject
"Not much, really." Quiet words, strained. He isn't bothered by a case taking a long time, he's bothered by who the case involves. Will is very familiar with the killers who strike close to home, but he'd gone through so much work back in Baltimore to keep Freddie Lounds out and safe, and none of that had mattered here. It wasn't even Hannibal Lecter (or Will) who could be blamed this time around. But Clark's a good guy, right? He can be trusted with (certain) information, there isn't any need for Will to play stoic and stony about this. "I'm still looking into it, of course, but whoever did this was...good."
Surely Clark understands what he means by that. Good at being bad, not good in the way they were actually good.
no subject
He hadn't thought, after their first conversation, that she would be one of the people he'd miss having around the most. But she had been such a constant presence that now her absence feels like a void. The fact that he's a reporter makes him feel like he should be the one to fill said void but he can't, he really can't, so figuring out her murder seems like the next best thing.
"If Batman is in the case it will eventually get solved." He says that with absolute certainty. Batman is the one thing he will trust beyond worlds, beyond universes. Or maybe he's just trying to convince himself that her murder won't go unpunished, that there's still a little bit of justice left in the world.
"I obviously didn't mean to push you, obviously. But it's a little frustrating to be on the sidelines."