Alfred Ashford (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
twinsanity) wrote2014-10-23 01:12 pm
twinsanity) wrote2014-10-23 01:12 pm
Entry tags:
- !ic,
- *video,
- asking for it,
- beyond caring that he's asking for it,
- clearly it's story hour,
- daddy issues everywhere,
- entertain him you assholes,
- guten morgen fuck my life,
- not even bothering with anon,
- pride of the ashford family,
- really starting to hate autumn,
- responsible human behavior,
- somebody make him stop talking,
- somebody probably broke alfred,
- this sort of shit's always a good sign,
- welcome to the ashford dynasty,
- where the hell is my shotgun
011. [Video]
[Alfred has been a bit...absent for the last week.
It's not unheard of for him to disappear for long periods at a time, vanishing behind the closed doors of that house he owns in Goldenrod; he's been known to have his reclusive spells, and for all intents and purposes this probably hasn't seemed much different. Granted, it's a longer period of time than he usually goes without being present in the Rocket labs – he's usually in there once every few days at least and he's been taking far more of an interest in chemistry than is really healthy lately – but altogether speaking it isn't abnormal, either.
The abnormal part kicks in when his video feed goes active today.
It's not terribly well set-up, though it doesn't seem like an accidental broadcast, either; the angle is just careless, aimed a bit too low to really give anyone a good idea of what they're looking at, but there's the usual red jacket and the shoulder guard and the medals, and once in a while one of his hands flicking across the screen where it comes in full view of the camera.
His breath is shaking a bit when he draws it in; it sounds almost like there's a laugh behind his words when he finally speaks, but it doesn't seem...right. The way he's speaking in general doesn't seem right, really - a bit too uncontrolled, a bit too high and pitchy and strange.]
So I'm going to assume that this particular week-long bout of sleep was just me...
[He laughs again, under his breath; it's closer to tittering than anything.]
That wasn't very nice of this place, now, was it? Why, it got my hopes up for nothing...I didn't even get to fight anything good, just –
[And he cuts himself off then; hesitates. Adjusts the angle of the camera so he's a bit more clearly seen. He's raking his hand back through his hair as he does so; it looks like he's been repeating that gesture a lot, given that he's far more disheveled than he ever allows himself to be on-camera.
His gaze is what's a bit worrying; it's oddly unfocused, a sense of distance there that isn't usually, not on days where anything's right in his head at all.
His words are still retaining that rushed, manic tone when he continues.]
Tell me, tell me – what's the last thing you remember before coming here? I'm sure you have some sort of story, just because no one here doesn't.
I didn't think I did, not really; apparently I was mistaken about that.
It's not unheard of for him to disappear for long periods at a time, vanishing behind the closed doors of that house he owns in Goldenrod; he's been known to have his reclusive spells, and for all intents and purposes this probably hasn't seemed much different. Granted, it's a longer period of time than he usually goes without being present in the Rocket labs – he's usually in there once every few days at least and he's been taking far more of an interest in chemistry than is really healthy lately – but altogether speaking it isn't abnormal, either.
The abnormal part kicks in when his video feed goes active today.
It's not terribly well set-up, though it doesn't seem like an accidental broadcast, either; the angle is just careless, aimed a bit too low to really give anyone a good idea of what they're looking at, but there's the usual red jacket and the shoulder guard and the medals, and once in a while one of his hands flicking across the screen where it comes in full view of the camera.
His breath is shaking a bit when he draws it in; it sounds almost like there's a laugh behind his words when he finally speaks, but it doesn't seem...right. The way he's speaking in general doesn't seem right, really - a bit too uncontrolled, a bit too high and pitchy and strange.]
So I'm going to assume that this particular week-long bout of sleep was just me...
[He laughs again, under his breath; it's closer to tittering than anything.]
That wasn't very nice of this place, now, was it? Why, it got my hopes up for nothing...I didn't even get to fight anything good, just –
[And he cuts himself off then; hesitates. Adjusts the angle of the camera so he's a bit more clearly seen. He's raking his hand back through his hair as he does so; it looks like he's been repeating that gesture a lot, given that he's far more disheveled than he ever allows himself to be on-camera.
His gaze is what's a bit worrying; it's oddly unfocused, a sense of distance there that isn't usually, not on days where anything's right in his head at all.
His words are still retaining that rushed, manic tone when he continues.]
Tell me, tell me – what's the last thing you remember before coming here? I'm sure you have some sort of story, just because no one here doesn't.
I didn't think I did, not really; apparently I was mistaken about that.
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Maybe you're catching up on all those Zs you missed out on while the bandersnatches were keeping you up.
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So the bandersnatches were there too. Useless things, they didn't even do what they were designed to do.
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Did you get to see your sister?
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Okay. He's okay. Just give him a moment, the pause before the response is a little long but eventually a response happens and that is what matters.]
Yes. My sister and my father both.
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...Hell, who knows, maybe there was a long delay because the guy decided to take a bathroom break, it could be totally benign.]
So that's good, right?
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There was something I had to do before I could see her again, and I managed to do it. That's what matters, in the end.
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Do you remember what I told you, regarding my sister standing a chance of becoming god?
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[He also...did...things...but we don't need to discuss that, really.]
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...Or would she go for a more elegant method? Sorry, I didn't mean to make her sound unladylike or anything.
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This is assuming my father doesn't get to them first, granted; he didn't sound terribly pleased with them, either.
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What's your dad's favorite style of murder?
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And besides, he's always liked this topic.]
He used to not enjoy it very much; he was one of those people who wanted to help people before he harmed them before.
Over the last fifteen years or so he's discovered a fondness for stabbing people. Eviscerating them, if he so chooses that day.
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Stabbing sounds about right for him then. An up-close-and-personal kind of guy.
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...I mean, unless you were the one he was stabbing.
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