maskormenacelogs | person man, person man, hit on the head with a frying pan

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person man, person man, hit on the head with a frying pan

WHO: Mark and whoever
WHERE: Everywhere!! But mostly De Chima and Maurtia Falls
WHEN: Throughout November
WHAT: Catch-all for November with stuff. Hit me up!! Please!!! Open prompts below; PM me if you want something that isn't these things.
WARNINGS: Mark's life sucks; I'll edit this header if any particular suckiness comes up.

1. dog dog dog dog dog dog dog; De Chima/Maurtia Falls
[ In De Chima or in Maurtia Falls, you might find a rather strange sight: a small stocky man walking an enormous stocky dog. This is Mark walking his dog Captain, a scarred and warlike pit bull that pulls at the leash and constantly wags his tail. Mark's expression is still a forbidding glower, but Captain's doggy face is open and bright-eyed and happy; there's no one he doesn't want to make friends with.

And Mark, unfortunately, doesn't know good leash technique, and also (in spite of his own roundness) doesn't outweigh his dog by that much. And so when Captain wants to make friends, Mark is dragged along behind him. And that is why, if you're walking around, you might be approached by a dog trailing a very sour-looking little man who's hissing - ]

No, don't - stop - heel -

2. come make $$$$; Maurtia Falls
[ PKE, LLC, up in Maurtia Falls, is beyond luxurious. The office is appointed with a sort of brushed-steel-and-pine classiness, like it's furnished from the expensive part of Ikea; the receptionist out front is attractive and aloof, and people who are waiting get offered mineral water from glass bottles.

There are any number of reasons that you might have ended up here: you might have received an advertisement in the mail, or a random notification on your phone, or you might have seen the advertising that targets imPorts. All of this advertising will have offered help in investing, getting rich, or opening a new business - generous funding to get everyone a little bit wealthier.

Mark, sitting at his desk, smiles a smile that can generously be described as oily when you're shown in. And he purrs - ]

Please, sit down. Tell me about how you'd like to make money.

3. kicking some grass; De Chima
[ Mark doesn't like to practice where he can be seen. Definitely not. So when he's worked up and anxious, he goes out far away from his family, far away from the people who know him, out into the forests of De Chima. On the unlikely off-chance that your character happens to wander by, they'll be treated to a very strange sight: a small fat man vigorously practicing a judo kata, face miserable, before punching a tree. He turns as soon as he hears them, though, eyes flashing with anger as he snarls - ]

What the hell are you doing here? Go away.

4. fuck it; anywhere
[ Mark's eating ice cream. Come have ice cream. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fine. Then because I'm a mutie.

First you think it's because you're a clone, now you think it's because you're a mutie, whatever that is, has anybody ever told you that you've got a bit of a persecution complex? We've just met and it's already fairly obvious.

Yeah, or maybe I've actually lived my life. And I know what people think of people like me.

You know what people think of people like you back home. Brand new world, Richie Rich, you're going to have to make an impression based on your personality.

[ which, the Doctor is coming to realize, might be a problem. ]

Yeah?

[ His chin jerks up. ]

So far we're three for three on universes where they kill clones. So don't feed me bullshit about some beautiful new universe of tolerance. No such thing.

I thought that as a businessman you needed to know something about statistics! [ Rolling his eyes, the Doctor continues. ] Let's say that twenty people get Ported in each month. If half of them are each from a different universe, then that's ten universes per month. So over a year-long period, that'd be a hundred and twenty different universes. That's undershooting it, by the way, sometimes we get months where more than twenty people show up.

Now, with all the way the universes could go, with some set in the past and some set in the distant future, some based around magic and others based around science, d'you really think all of them would be prejudiced against clones?

[ The Doctor continues talking, shrugging slightly as he continues. ] There's bound to be some duds in there. But there are duds in every batch. And if you specifically go out to find the duds without paying attention to the rest of everything, then of course you're going to think the entire multiverse's against you.

[ His face gets angrier and angrier and angrier as the Doctor speaks. When he's done, he sits there a long moment, staring at him, his face dark with sheer fury.

Finally, he spits: ]

So if I go and search and search and search, I can maybe finally come across a place where they won't kill everyone like me. You're right. The universe is a beautiful fucking place, because maybe they won't kill us.

I hope you're a piece of shit who's secretly delighted to see clones die, because otherwise that was the most pathetic - Statistics. Statistically, maybe there's a place where my friends don't get murdered.

[ And the Doctor sighs, just a long suffering sigh of someone who's trying to convince someone else of something and it's just not working. ]

Isn't that what you kids do in the first place? If you don't like the situation, you move out of your parent's house. You change things because if you stand around complaining about your lot in life without doing anything, then you really don't deserve the right to complain.

There's probably a place in your universe that's a lot more tolerant towards clones, because again, there's more than twelve planets in the universe, a fact which you seem to keep missing the more we talk about this. And really, I'm truly sorry that you were born on such a horrid place and had such horrible things happen to you. But what do you want me to do about it?

[ Because the Doctor's got a feeling that the answer won't be anything physical. Empathy? He's got that. Apologizing, he can apologize until the cows come home. But he knows that he can't do anything to have changed Mark's circumstances. ]

[ His answer is clear, and harsh, and low. ]

Stop fucking lying.

[ His hands clench into fists where they rest on his desk. ]

I assume this is why you come at me like I'm some kid. You think a kid can't contradict you, that they don't know enough. But here's the difference - I might just be a kid, but I know the fucking score. I watched every friend I had growing up being led off to be harvested. To be cannibalized. Every single one of them - we were all chattel. I just was livestock branded for a different purpose, is all. And if it's not us, it's others. This fucking world, it takes a look at kids, at girls, and decides, yeah. Livestock. Sell them into slavery, sell them into work. No problem. There isn't a single world out there that's good. And you sit there, and you lie to me, and you pretend like there's anything - anyone - out there who'd do anyone a good turn. Fuck you. Fuck your lies. I know the score.

[ There's a long pause before the Doctor talks. Because ah. This runs deeper than he imagined. This explains every hostile remark that the Doctor had chalked up to Mark being your average short-sighted human. But no. This poor guy's been run through the ringer and back his entire life.

If you lived in hell for all of your life, it's hard to see anything that isn't hell. No wonder Mark's bitter. ]

I'm sorry. I'm sorry that all this happened to you and I'm sorry that it's happening to the people back on your world.

[ But the Doctor, ever the optimist, can't let this end there. ]

But what about your people? You mentioned your people you had behind you earlier--it sounded like you trusted them. Do you really believe they wouldn't do you a good turn?

[ In that pause, Mark's anger has subsided into sullen gloominess. His hands have unclenched, and he's drooped low in his seat. Or, well - as low as he can droop; there's not all that much smaller or slumpier he can get. His response is a morose: ]

So what if they would? No one else gets saved.

[ But he has to admit: ]

They're different from anyone else.

Sometimes saving ourselves is the only thing we can do. You can't save other people if you're not in top form yourself.

[ One of the reasons, whether the Doctor realizes it or not, why he usually has a traveling companion with him. Other people are wonderful for yourself. ]

I'm glad you've got them, though.

[ The Doctor certainly wasn't wrong in his assessment of Mark as difficult, personality-wise. And Mark's certainly not ready for any kumbaya moment. He prickles up again, a hedgehog remembering his biological imperative to bristle. ]

You don't get to be glad about anything for me. I told you not to act like you know me.

[ The expression on his face is a curious mix, though - defiance, obviously, because defiance is his version of courage, but also pride. And wariness, too, that comes from a sort of possessiveness. His family is his, and he doesn't want any cool time-traveling aliens coming in and seeing how good they are and taking them away from him. ]

You don't know what I can or can't do, either.

I can be glad you've got people who care about you without knowing who you are, you know. I'd be glad if anybody's got people who care about them. It's a sad lot in life if you have to go it alone.

[ Whereas the Doctor's is a look of confusion. This isn't acting like he knows Mark. This is the Doctor being happy that Mark's got people who like him, people who he trusts enough to call his people. What's wrong with that? ]

There are worse things.

[ Far worse things. Better to be alone, after all, than to have the wrong sorts of people with you. No mistake, the fact that the Vorkosigans forgave him and took him on is the second-best thing that ever happened to him. The first-best thing, though, was getting away from Galen at all.

But what the Doctor said was general enough to soothe a few of Mark's ruffled feathers. He frowns and shrugs, his hostility turned down a little. ]

Anyway. I'm going to stop all of it. The clone body-trade on Jackson's Whole. So you can shove your comments about only saving yourself.

[ And the Doctor can't help but smile at Mark's comment about stopping all of it. He may be shouty. And he may be running on fumes and bullshit. But that comment right there officially cements Mark as good people, in the Doctor's mind. ]

When we go home if there's any possibility of universes crossing or what have you, look me up. I'd like to help, if possible.

[ It is probably not possible. After all, Jackson's Whole doesn't exist in his universe. But the Doctor's lived too long a life and experienced too many strange things to write anything off as 'impossible' without poking around and exploring a bit. ]

Oh, yeah?

[ The expression on Mark's face tries for hard and suspicious. He manages that, no question, but mixed in with that emotion is, well - either desperation or hope. One or the other, or both - maybe they're the same thing in the end, after all. ]

What can you even do?

Back home? I can travel. [ The Doctor's downright nostalgic as he talks. He tries to come off as 'oooh, look at me, I'm the Doctor, I'm an eccentric alien who can roll with things and keep things under control'...but man does he really miss his TARDIS. ]

I've got a spaceship, the TARDIS. She can travel anywhere through time and space. Bigger on the inside too, so she's perfect for helping to relocate people.

[ Like an entire clone society. ]

That's how it is with every move, you need the friend with the car.

Time and space.

[ The hard suspicion is receding just a bit. ]

Then you could - could you come in and pull out the clones from my creche before they...

[ But he clamps down, stomping out that hope before it even gets fully uttered. ]

I bet you can't. I bet there's some rule against it.

[ He gives Mark a small nod. Ding ding ding, there is some rule. ]

I can't change the past. Say I did do that, went back in time and saved you and the other clones before they died. At best, it creates a divergent timeline. At worst, a massive paradox. Because we'd only know to save them because they died in the first place.

[ The Doctor continues talking, serious but also sympathetic in his tone. ]

It's just too dangerous. The universe can support a few paradoxes--saved the day with the Bootstrap Paradox a while back. But those are smaller things. When you get into the big events, saving hundreds of lives, preventing that volcano from erupting, that's when things get too rocky. I don't want to chance it.

Yeah.

[ Hope quickly flees, giving way to cynicism. He glares off at the wall behind the Doctor's head. ]

That's how it always is, isn't it? There's always some reason. Everyone disapproves of it, but no one does anything. There's always some reason. [ But he doesn't quite succumb to misery. Because he has this to add: ] Barrayarans are crazy, but at least when they say, I wish I could help, they follow it up with and instead of but.

Oi, didn't I say I'd be the bus? [ The Doctor's rolling his eyes, but his tone of voice is a bit more teasing than hostile. They're at a relatively steady part of the roller coaster conversation and the Doctor's a bit concerned that it's gonna plummet. ] That's something.

[ And, to further keep the roller coaster from crashing, the Doctor adds in, ]

Can you tell me more about your Barrayarans?

[ He hesitates, a little uncertain - still possessive of them, frankly, and possessive of their relationship with him. But - well - the Doctor offered to be the getaway car, and even if that's not everything it's not nothing, either, and so he relents just a little. The roller-coaster track is still intact. ]

I guess. There's Lord and Lady Vorkosigan. And Miles. You'll recognize him if you see him. He looks a lot like me.

[ Not identical, of course. But close. ]

And all of them are here in this world, right?

[ Keep Mark talking about the Vorkosigans, keep him talking, keep him not thinking about clones and his world. ]

[ A slight hesitation, and then a nod. He's still skittish, but the Doctor has managed to take another turn in the conversation without either bumping up against one of his (many, many) raw spots or triggering his violent allergy to feeling like someone's exerting control over him. So he's drawn out a little further, answering - ]

All the living Vorkosigans are, yeah. Not all Barrayarans, obviously. There are hundreds of millions of them.

[ That's uttered with nothing more hostile than the eye-rolling well, duh-ness of your average sullen teenager. ]

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