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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
Grey looks up at Will with a surreptitious glance. He likes the sound of that, of all those colours. His hands had stilled at the mention of yellow ones. Yellow roses? His rough fingertips brush against the petals, while he wonders what that’s like. He’d like to see those, and his nod is brief but eager.
He wonders why Will is kind to him like this. Why he lets him come over so often, and keeps inviting him. It strikes him that Will doesn’t have to do that, that no one does. He’d been very alone here at first, but he isn’t now. There are people he has managed to attach to, and for some reason, they seem content to let him.
Grey holds out his hand. Normally he makes tattooed words appear here, but occasionally, the ink he can control does something different. He does that now. He makes the shape of a rosebud appear, just like the ones on the plant he’s holding, but he turns the petals yellow, like the colour of a street light. That’s how he’s imagining it. Is he right? And also, can we get some?
He turns his hand again, finishing the job of burying these roots and mounding soil on top of them. The rose tattoo hasn’t disappeared, but rather has moved around to the back of his hand – something he only realises when he shakes the earth off, and as soon as he notices it, it disappears after all. He can never make those tattoos stay.
no subject
He pauses to look over the color as it appears, taking a second to figure out the best way to say it, and eventually nods his head. Getting into a discussion about how the yellow he means is somewhat less synthetic than the one in Grey's hand is just nitpicking—he'll get it when he sees them for himself. How they're the same sort of bright without being a fake bright, if they're not that calm pastel color. Grey was a smart kid, it would make sense because that nod was also a yes, Will would pick up some next trip he made and Grey could take over as Rose Garden Attendant if he wanted.
"Have you ever heard of a green thumb?" Grey could turn his thumb green if he wanted, literally, Will assumes. "It's...someone who's naturally really good with gardening. They can make things grow other people have issues with, like there's some instinct in them to be good at it. I think you've got one. Maybe two, you're...pretty good at this, Grey."
To prevent any overly awkward eyes being made, Will keeps his on the ground during what could be considered praise, evening out soil as Grey puts it out. He's not so good with doling out encouragement in the first place, the best he can do is be sincere.
no subject
He doesn't know if he's good at gardening. He shrugs, shyly, in response, and looks down at his roses. He likes them, and if they live he'll be pleased. But he wouldn't really know how to do it without help. He glances up and pats Will's shoulder instead. He's the one who helped. He's the one who knows what to do.
And he mentioned the yellow flowers, which Grey is going to find if he can. He would like for all the colours to be here. There never was much colour in the tail section, but the richer parts of the Train had been colourful. Grey had seen them. Now, he thinks, everyone ought to have colours.
'Thanks.' He points out the tattoo, before patting Will's shoulder again. Will is always the one who teaches him new things. He's noticed that pattern.
'How do you know how to do all this ?' A new sentence, appearing on his outstretched palm. 'You know everything. Sailing, gardens. Everything.'
no subject
A brief laugh escapes at literal green thumbs, genuinely amused instead of indulgent. That fades into a half-grown when he catches sight of that outstretched palm, lifting his own dirt-covered one to wave it away. How dare you, sir. Will's turn to play shy.
"Learned about the water as I was growing up and gardening's just because I didn't want to call anyone out to my property if I didn't have to." Humility runs deep here and now, as deep as the root Will makes sure gets into a spot where it will definitely take hold. Colors for everyone require a bit of digging around, and while Will doesn't understand the full scope of Grey's life before this place, he can't be troubled by the idea of making the yard pop more than it does already. Even if they end up arranging things in a less than perfect way, color-wise, it's for them, not passers-by. "I don't know how to do everything, Grey, you just catch me doing the stuff I'm good at."
no subject
Grey needs that. He needs someone who knows what they're doing. On the Train, Gilliam had always been the one to direct him and explain things. Now that he no longer has that, he needs to look elsewhere for understanding, and more often than not, Will has fulfilled that role.
What that means to Grey, he's less sure of. He knows he doesn't feel for Will the way he did for Gilliam. It's a different sort of feeling, and one he really doesn't understand.
'You are good at the things I am not,' his tattoos say, and then he smiles. 'You grew up with them . Your world wasnt cold was it ? It was warm like here . No snow .'