dreadinquisitor (
dreadinquisitor) wrote2017-09-03 10:32 pm
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Mask or Menace - IC Inbox

He's gotten better with his communicator - a part of him even likes it! He'll probably get back to you, if you leave him a message.
Conversely, do it the old fashioned way. He'll definitely get back to you.
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Such as this.
It makes him smile, wider when he notes the name attached, but he still has to search what it's be supposed to be - and mean - before replying.]
video
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3 am text
Saw your light on
you up?
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Sorry
Does the light bother you?
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after the horror house, action;
Grabbing some of the tea that Maxwell left for him a couple weeks ago (had so much time really passed? had it really been so recently?) as well as a half-finished bottle of whiskey, he hopped on his carpet and flew over.
Carefully, without looking inside, he knocked on the window.]
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The promise... and then the reality.
Alone. And he pressed on because that was what he did. That was what he needed to do.
He'd seen Poe, once, since. Across the distance between their row houses, and while Maxwell had thought he looked perhaps as pale and tired as he did and he'd thought about calling out - thought about going over, at least, it had almost immediately brought a choking heat up into his throat. Just the mere idea of the words; of the excuse that would be the only thing he could give to explain...
So he dealt with it as he did so many things. Alone.
Working, eating, one foot in front of the other, one task at a time.... And now, gently smoothing a curve of wood that could roughly be called the idea of a bow to distract his mind and his hands when the knock came.
His hands pause, and he glances toward the curtained window. There wasn't realistically anyone else it could be, and he still dreaded it, but it would have to be sooner or later, wouldn't it?
Setting his project aside, he crossed the room and drew back the fabric, pausing only a moment before sliding the glass up.]
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After Space
Not like that.
Then he didn't watch much after that, catching only bits and pieces in passing, so he didn't know when Poe returned. It wasn't few a few days more, until another sleepiness night was driving him out into his makeshift archery range that he spotted the light where it hadn't been for weeks now.
His reaction, truthfully, didn't even really have that much to do with Poe. It was seeded in the long weeks, months now, that he'd been trapped in his own unrelenting heartache. Grief and anger and guilt boiling away inside him for so long--
--He let the spectral arrow loose before he'd even really thought of it. A streak of green, flashing past Poe's window and lodging in the tree beyond. Like the ghost of a weapon, it lingered only a moment before exploding into wispy smoke.
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He went to the window with a frown, only the trace of green lingering as he finally opened it. He leaned out, looking where it had come from, and then disappeared back into the window. A moment later, he reappeared, carpet and all, gliding down to where Maxwell was.
"Hey, bud, you alright? I saw the arrow."
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After space- FOR REAL THIS TIME
He wasn't really thinking about it, when he knocked on the door, but there was something weird: he didn't look like himself. In fact, he looked a lot like his mom - for all intents and purposes completely and utterly female. It didn't actually make a lot of a difference to him, once he'd figured it out. Too busy to really worry about it. But that meant that he didn't think to change back before he was knocking on Maxwell's door. (No carpet either, and riding a flying horse up to the window would probably be Something Else.)
So, on the outside, it mostly just looked like a dark haired woman (with incredible bedhead), wearing Poe Dameron's leather jacket, knocking on his neighbor's door.]
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For as different as Poe looked, Maxwell's transformation was perhaps only slightly less surprising. All effort made by all the various healers this strange world had to offer had worked superficially, if at all. It had bought him some time, but The Anchor had not stopped.
The skin of his marked hand and forearm were now an ashen green, the veins running up into his shoulder, into his throat, bright with its strange power. The lines around his mouth and eyes were deep and white, twisted with pain. His eyes were dark and distant, focus difficult.
He had to lean upon the door a moment, to gather himself, before he pulled it open.
And then he blinked at the stranger, completely unknowing. After a few beats his eyes moved slowly to the jacket and something like familiarity passed over his face, twitching his eyebrows just slightly.]
I guess he does move fast. [He gestured with his good hand down the street.] Sorry, serah. Poe lives down there.
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text
it's been a while
how are you doing?
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But also more than a little surprised and he's almost afraid to think too much about the pain is different.
Better?]
Still alive. For the moment, at least.
Are you alright?
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text
come with y/n?
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I'll be outside.
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text
Hey.
I wanted to apologize for, uh...
I just kind of got carried away. When we were talking.
You were being kind and trying to help me and I assumed the worst and shared far too much of Poe's feelings with you.
I'm worried I made you uncomfortable, or else brought up some things from home that you didn't want to think about.
Maybe I didn't. I don't know. I am a stupid man, so there are a great many things I don't know.
My talents lie in waxing poetic about darkness, rather than in candid conversations about emotions.
Just, I'm sorry. If I was bad.
I was also, um.
I was also wondering if you could tell me more about the person in your life who hurt you.
What they were like - their personality, their hopes, things like that.
If you're comfortable with that.
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You did nothing wrong. You'll recall I was even the one to bring it up, there at the end. And even if you had, I wouldn't hold it against you. I understand it. At least some of what you're going through.
[The next message comes after a very long pause.]
His name is Dorian.
He is one of the most passionate people I have ever met. Anything he sets his mind to do he does so with his whole heart. And he is so determined and fearless in the face of it, even if the circumstances might be dire, he doesn't let it stop him. Even when he would pretend it wasn't that important to him, you could see it in his eyes. And he won't compromise his principles, his morals, just to make something easier.
...If he could hear me say that, he'd probably try and make a joke out of it. Tell you I'm lying, but it's the truth. He's a good man.
That's why he was going to leave.
He could do a great deal of good, elsewhere. He thinks it, I know it.
He has to go. I have to let him.
sorry for the delay my dude
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text absorbs this inbox i HOPE THIS IS OKAY
going to need some advice on archery/swording targets soon, if you're agreeable to imparting some wisdom
I love it don't change anything
Of course. Just say the world.
Though I'll warn you that my sword arm is not what my bow eye is. My knowledge is both limited and specific.
!!
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thurs, march 15, 20 minutes after Maxwell is ported back in
hey buddy
scared me for a minute
bb-8 says you're back so if you could confirm you are, and that you remember who the hell i am, that would be great
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This is the third time I've woken up like this. I didn't even question it this time. That should probably worry me.
And I'm sorry I worried you. I wouldn't have, had I a choice in the matter.
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Kind of really delayed, but, wanted to see how you are doing
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I'm well enough. How are you? Did you get back alright?
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voice, day 7.
I'm sorry.
I get it now.
I won't - ask you to forgive me, but I promise I won't pull that kind of shit on you again. On any of you.
I'm going to try to help them stop this thing but - I promise I will do everything in my power not to get hurt.
Just.
Stay safe.
Alright?
Please.
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His expression is still coolly polite, but there's a small vee of concern between his eyebrows.]
You understand why we were upset?
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voice - forward dated to nebulous party future
[...]
One you couldn't pay me to attend. You wanna hang out?
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I'm sure it'll be fine. Most things wash out.
Are you looking for a chaperone, or refuge?
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