certaininequities | IC Inbox for Ryslig

I'm beginning to think this place is better than a soap opera on certain days.

I'll send you that ... profile thing, soon.

[He's focused, attentive, taking in every word and turning the meaning around in his hands to observe from all angles. There's something admirable in this approach, he finds — not exactly the same as his own, which he'll admit even in the privacy of his own head is less coherent, but with the same throughline.]

[Don't give them what they want.]

. . . You're exactly right.

[Of course he is.]

I've never experienced anything exactly like that. [Although what Cioccolata did to Rome doesn't feel terribly far off.] But I understand why people commit acts of cruelty, for the most part. I'm not used to others understanding as well.

[More accurately, he's used to people turning a blind eye for their own safety or benefit. But Ryslig isn't like that, in some ways. It's a place of extremes. Very few are able to stay in the safe middle ground.]

Do you want to? Help those affected, I mean.

You don't know the half of it! And we're the stars! ;)

Anyway, no rush, but still kind of a rush. Don't make me invent something!

I do, yes. Absolutely. In this exact instance I'm not sure where to start, but I'm still mulling it over.

[Norman purses his lips, quiet and thoughtful for a moment. 'not used to others understanding' - he could tell Giorno some tales of cruelty, for sure. but he doesn't want to give the Goblin a place at this table. not when the conversation they're having should be proof that he doesn't want that to be a part of his life, anymore: that he intends to be better. do better. take responsibility for himself and care for the people around him. step up, for real, instead of being all bluster and ego while everything else either simmered under the surface or got left by the wayside.]

The trouble, I think ... [he starts slowly, wagging a finger at nothing in particular] ... is that everyone is capable of acts of amazing cruelty. Those of us who recognize that in ourselves, who square with that and still make the choice to deny it ... they can move forward and not take the bait. Not start the fight, just ... keep on moving.

It's the people who indulge that cruelty for its own sake and the people who are in denial over what they're capable of that make the worst conflicts. The self-righteous who see a mirror held up to them and say "no, that can't be me", and throw a rock at it.

((Picking up from hijinks discussed here))

[So, the good news is, this time Quentin set shit up with the intention to get to the bar he suggested first! After his run-in with that Dillon guy, he is... definitely much warier about this sort of thing.

At the moment, he's working under two assumptions: One, the guy's probably going to recognize him in some way, considering both the fishbowl comment, and the fact that Pier didn't ask for some kind of identifier. Two, he has to be smart about this shit, because green with four eyes? That's a monster, man. And Quentin is very much still a human, at the moment. He doesn't want to get snapped in half.

Another thing that he doesn't want to bet on, but can't quite shake the thought of is... theoretically, he'll be safe? Parker wouldn't be friendly with people who committed murder willy-nilly, but. Dillon still kicked his shit in pretty thoroughly.

Yeah, he can't bet on that last one at all, so it's not even an assumption. It's more like a bonafide pipe dream.

Either way, Quentin's safely at the bar half an hour in advance, and it's vaguely familiar territory. Not too close to the 38-8, but not too far away either if he ends up having to lick his own wounds again. God, this fucking place. It's like trying to deal with Fury and SHIELD shit on overdrive, this is the last time he's going to suggest something like this all willy-nilly.

He starts peeling the label off of his beer absently, watching the doorway carefully for whenever some green guy with four eyes will walk in. Place has a decent amount of foot-traffic, considering it's the middle of the week, but Quentin's not going to object to that. If he needs to potentially slip out-

Well. He'll make it work.]

Edited (hit enter too soon [mournful kazoo]) 2022-05-12 04:55 (UTC)

[Norman purposefully dressed down: a (new) hoodie, this one a deep navy blue, and a pair of dark jeans. the focus is meant to be on his four glowing yellow eyes, his sharp teeth. his claws are filed and blunted, but he still looks like someone who walks the line between casual and dangerous as he enters the bar and his eyes sweep the tables before finding Beck. he takes note of the beer and stops at the bar, ordering another for him and a glass of bourbon for himself, then brings the drinks up to Beck's table.]

I think I promised you this.

[Not start the fight, just keep on moving.]

[He holds himself with serenity by default, at every given opportunity, but that truly stills him, freezes him in place as though he's frozen in time. Is that really the key? Know yourself, know what you're capable of, and refuse to give up. What a precarious balancing act. And exactly what he's committed to a life of long before he came to this place.]

It's one of the few ways to stay sane in this place, I think. Recognizing what you're capable of, what Ryslig is pushing you towards, and standing firm in what you know is right. It's not simple or easy. But . . .

[Briefly, his expression shutters. The trouble is, really, that if he'd been asked two weeks ago who was the last person in his immediate circle to go off the rails like this, he'd likely have said Atem. Which is troubling on a number of levels, but mostly because, he thinks, it indicates the vampire's level of self-deception. To be able to continue acting as though everything was fine while this was going on behind the scenes — that's disturbing.]

[So what are they to do about that? The people who throw stones at their own reflections in private, then wear their same old face out on the street? Letting this happen again over and over doesn't seem like an answer, but he certainly doesn't have a better one.]

. . . I prefer those aware of their own cruelties. People who lie to themselves convincingly are the most dangerous. To others and to themselves.

[He blinks, seeming to come out of whatever headspace he'd fallen into. He hasn't, not really, but — he can lie to others, at the very least.]

There are things you can do, you know. To help. There's a certain mindset that to do so is deluding yourself, that assisting and supporting humanity in this place is just hypocrisy. But they live in a war zone. All of them. We have no idea what it's like to be purely human in this place. I don't consider empathy to be delusional.

[Oh, Pierglass is. Very green. And has some very pointy looking teeth. It's. Hn. Yeah. Quentin may have done-well-diddly fucked up, and overestimated how prepared he was to interact with someone as monstrous as- this.

He should have bailed. Should have just had a laugh over getting somebody into a bar, and just- not actually shown up. Ding-dong ditched this shit, as it is.

Oh he is so out of his depth, he can feel the metaphorical water lapping at his neck.

...And Pierglass 100% recognizes him, considering he beelines right fucking towards him and the table he's at. Ha, he is. So fucked. God. In for a penny, in for a goddamn pound, though. He made his bed, and he'll lie in it until he can get the fuck out of here.

There is definitely a moment where Quentin can't quite hide his look of shock/surprise, before papering over it with some facade of vaguely interested politeness. Pretend everything is fine, and it will be fine.

Hopefully.]

Why, Pier, no fishbowl drink to split? I'm shocked. Though, I still appreciate the gesture. Quite the gentleman, aren't you?

[Quentin casts a very obvious brief glance around the bar, which is... definitely not the kind of place that would serve a fishbowl drink. It's not a club or other venue that'd do that kind of show-off thing. But... Quentin can recognize the opening for a joke when he sees it, as well as hoping that maybe the bit of humor can buy him some time to just- make an excuse to get out of here.

Being polite and joking a little could save his skin, right? Maybe?]

I couldn't agree more. I ... use'ta be one of those people, myself. I'm past it. And I want to use my mistakes to help other people avoid them. But this isn't about me -

[he shakes his head, holding up a hand, silent apologies in his gaze]

There's so much that needs to be done, so many different ways to help. For me, honestly, I think the biggest problem is just choosing. I got a job working at McGucket Labs, helping develop things, but ... what I really want is to save up enough to start my pharmaceutical company here.

Develop things to help people cope with the pain of the changes, the stress, the anxiety. Start with simple things like that, you know?

I didn't see any Mai Tais or Zombies on the menu, sorry.

[he quips as he takes his seat. yes, he'd started that conversation with a simple, easy need to just punch the man in the face. but on his way over, he realized that maybe it was good to get a proper measure of this sorry excuse for a man before he did it. let him think he'd reconsidered. get his guard down. learn a little more, so that he'd be able to protect Peter]

Listen, I - I let my temper get the better of me, earlier. Truth is, I haven't known Peter for very long, and he made a good impression is all.

[Quentin can't help but snort a little. A Zombie would be a little too on the nose for this place, wouldn't it? But a Mai Tai... god.

He normally tries to stick to the Average Guy wheelhouse (beer, whiskey, bourbon, whatever), but that wouldn't be half-bad. The right kind of sweetness to offset the fact he's still a bit scared shitless, to be honest. Like hell would he expose that sliver of underbelly to this guy, though.]

Well, maybe next time we could try somewhere else, huh? If you want to, anyways. It's hard to find a good place for drinks around here. Good conversation too.

[Quentin smiles as pleasantly as he can manage, trying to spin this whole thing as- something. He doesn't think schmoozing is the right way to slip out of this, and flirting? Yeah, no. He's not going to risk his neck by pushing that far. But, look. It could be a bit fun to verbally spar with somebody, and have a drink now and then too.

And oh, is that a little bit of an opening to worm into? If Pier hasn't known Peter long... well. Quentin can work with that. Also, maybe he can get the guy's actual name, because Pierglass has to be just some username.]

That's one of the things the kid's good at, first impressions. But... [Quentin shrugs, taking a sip from the beer he started the night with. No offense, buddy, but he's gonna take his time.] Between you and me, things start to wear a bit thin with him after a while. Though you really must be close already, considering... [He makes a vague gesture with his hand, glancing at Norman casually.] He wouldn't tell just anybody about the, ah, 'fishbowl' thing, Mister-?

[He lets his question hang in the air, trying to keep things as casual and non-confrontational as possible. It is not on his agenda tonight to get eaten.]

Would be nice to have a little place that has a proper humidor, some top-level liquors.
Give people a chance to feel fancier than they do in a dump like this.

[he watches Beck like a hawk, lets him run his mouth off. he's dressed conservatively, bland, the sort of outfit carefully curated to not draw attention or betray anything about himself. but meeting in a dive like this means he knew he was expecting trouble, and wanted to be in a place where he might be able to count on others joining in out of the sheer promise of a fight. weaponized bloodlust, Norman thinks grimly. clever. he won't be able to confront Beck here, not if he's so careful about curating his image that he could use it to his advantage. mob mentality is a dangerous thing, even with the bar not as busy as it could be. so for now, he thinks, it's best to play the social angle. talk to him until he can say 'hey why don't we find one of those better bars'.

when prompted, he holds out his hand]

Jonah Jameson. I'm in the newspaper business back home. It's how I knew about the, uh.

[he makes a circle in the air between their heads. 'fishbowl.']

[Quentin can't help his vague scoff at the mention of 'Jonah Jameson' even as he shakes the other man's hand. This guy is clearly not him, and while Quentin didn't subscribe to his conspiracy theory bullshit, he at least knew what Jameson looked like. Kept vague tabs on him as a potential viable source to 'leak' things to in the event of- things. Certain things he really doesn't want to think about right now, as he takes a sip of his beer to buy himself some time. Figure out how to not completely implode this conversation by accident.

The disbelief in his tone is practically palpable when he does finally speak.]

Jameson, right. I have doubts about that, considering- well.

[He sets his beer aside, crossing his arms and leaning them on the edge of the table. Acting casual even now as he lowers his voice to stay between them. Despite the hubbub of the bar, he doesn't trust that they won't be overheard.]

Between you and me, I don't think he'd end up mean and green. You know who I am though, who I was. So be honest with me, really. Who are you? What stake do you have in this whole thing with Parker? Or do you just want some scoop on Mysterio to win a Pulitzer or something when you get back home?

[Quentin doesn't really register the fact that Norman could be someone from another world, because why the hell would Jameson be in two different ones? ~~Jameson's played by the same guy, even!~~ At best, he thinks this is some news story guy in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Someone who wasn't fully suckered in by the footage he'd left for William to edit together. Ugh. Now he has to get his hands metaphorically dirty and try to convince the guy one on one how wrong Peter is about things.]

Alright, alright, you got me. I'm not Jonah.

[he winces, glancing around, clearly embarrassed]

I'm his assistant, Ted Hoffman. I don't want a Pulitzer, I just ... I wanna bring something back that'll make Jonah take a little more notice. Make me realize I'm not just - [how had Jonah described Hoffman that one day at the gentlemen's club? he thinks fast] - 'some whiny little twig in a cheap suit'.

[Peter knocks on the door to Norman and Otto's room. Waiting for a long moment before speaking up.]

Norman?

[The teenager is fairly sure Norman has come back from the labs by now. All three of them have built up a schedule by now.

Peter has finished with a patrol, and is a little tired from it, but wanted to make sure to give Norman something he saw and thought he'd like.]

[the distraction comes right at the perfect time: Otto's out for some reason or other (probably planning a certain date), and Norman's been left to his own devices, pacing the room for a lack of anything else to do with his nerves.

he'd tried reading a book, but his focus had been next to nothing, so the cheap paperback thriller lies discarded on the armchair next to a cold half-cup of coffee. other than that, the room they share is as neat and clean as ever when Norman calls out:]

It's open, Parker!

[Peter lets himself in once given permission, clutching something against his chest. He's switched back to his civilian clothes before coming back home.

His gait is a little awkward from fatigue and taking a bit of a fall earlier. Nothing serious as far as Peter is concerned.]

Are you busy right now?

[the easy smile Norman reserves for Peter disappears almost instantly at the sight of him. Norman closes the distance between them, already reaching for what he assumes is the Spider-suit clutched against Peter's chest.}

Well - I am now! Peter, you're hurt. What happened? C'mon, sit - siddown.

[fretting, he guides Peter toward his armchair, reaching down quickly to sweep the book out of the way]

[The teenager blinks a little at the sudden shift. Norman gets a carefully bagged bundle in his hands. Rifling through the bag will reveal a loose t-shirt around Norman's size with a science pun on the front.]

I'm- Oh, I'm good! [Said with all the confused confidence the teenager can muster though he's being guided along to the chair.

The teenager sinks into the seat.]

I was just on patrol. I fell off of a balcony. Nothing major.

Nothing majo-- Peter, it was a balcony! Neith-- [he catches himself before he can say 'neither one of us']

You don't have that special endurance you had as Spider-man, anymore. [he pulls the bundle of cloth from the bag and shakes it at Peter demonstratively, still thinking it's the suit]

You've got to be more care-- Whuh?

[the little noise he makes as the t-shirt unfolds in his hand is decidedly comical, but not as much as the face that accompanies]

I mean, it wasn't that high up...? I can still probably sleep it off just fine?

[The reaction throws Peter off again. T

hen he remembers Norman is seeing the shirt for the first time.]

Oh, I thought you'd like the shirt? I mean, I thought it was funny.

[all that nervous energy he'd been radiating instantly stills. Norman holds the shirt out at arm's length by the shoulders, squinting, his lips minutely forming the printed words for half a second before he laughs hard enough that his stomach is visibly bouncing.]

Peter, this is great. Where'd you find it? Here.

[he holds it back out to him, not yet understanding that it's a gift]

I was looking around Bavan and someone was selling some shirts. I guess they saw stuff monsters liked wearing and copied it?

[Peter shakes his head a little. Smiling now at Norman's bright laughter and smile.]

No, it's for you! I got it for you.

[it may not have seemed as though his grin could get any wider, but it does. instead of taking the offered shirt, he pulls Peter into a hug - though he's careful not to hold him tight due to the recent fall]

Awh, Peter.... I love it. You're so sweet to think've me like this. Especially when -

[he pulls away, concerned]

You lost your job, are you sure you can afford doing this for me?

[Peter blinks a little, but returns the hug. He's a little surprised but accepts the hug easily enough. He sits back as Norman pulls away.]

Yeah, I think I can manage.

[He shrugs as he adds.]

I mean, like, people threw solars at me for doing a flip earlier this week, so I have a bit more.

IC Inbox for Ryslig

<DrOsborn>

tfw you play a character from literally 5 months before 9/11. buck wild

<e.grey> ignore me, just tying up loose ends from my inbox

huh! go fig. one more reason I need to watch this dang canon

Backdated to April 13th

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

before goblin shenanigans - [Action]

I love threat threads yay

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

just pulls this icon out again, its fiiine