Organism assembly line

So it's been made clear by some...friends of mine that I should probably sell the results of my breeding endeavors rather than attempting to keep them in hopes that they'll someday completely defy my expectations and actually be useful.

[I mean, he can't possibly imagine why. It's not like his fault that Operation: Ho-Ho-Holy Shit (or whatever it is that we're calling that thing that happened in Celadon earlier this month) involved an unholy mess of bees for no real reason.]

I've attached a list of what I have; get back to me if you're interested. I'd prefer trades over flat-out payment, though I certainly won't tell you no if you want to send me money instead. I don't particularly care what you do with them – give them to your friends, sell them at a profit, keep them and love them forever, whatever. I'd just prefer to not have them around for much longer than needs be.

[...NOT LEAST OF WHICH BECAUSE HE'LL JUST KIND OF HOARD THEM ALL, AND APPARENTLY THAT'S NOT GOING TO FLY...]


[OOC]

[Egg list is here - there are still a mess of them so feel free to claim what you like!]

[TEXT]

So it seems that the running theme on the network this summer is "We're all terrible people and/or have no idea how to handle ourselves in groups." Good to know, I suppose.

Since I'm particularly bored but otherwise actually am having a very good day today (thank you very much), maybe all of you can regale me with some of that optimism you seem to like so much. Or you can be needlessly pessimistic, I don't really care. I just want to hear stories.

So why don't you talk about something you've accomplished since you've been here? I don't care how important it is in the scheme of things. Just something you've gotten done.

Since I'm sure somebody is going to ask for my reasoning in asking, I'm coming up on a year of being here, though I still have some time yet. I suppose this sort of thing is on my mind.


[ACTION]

( Egregious animal cruelty again, because of course. )

[Alfred actually seems pretty calm over the video feed today - and it is Alfred today, as opposed to Alexia; it's overcast but it's warm enough, and he's currently settled under one of the trees in Ilex Forest. He's not looking at the camera, but rather his gaze is downcast, focused on the...thing he's got draped over his lap. No, it's not one of the Bloobers, but admittedly a three-eyed pink slug the size of a fairly large dog with a naturally-occurring Viking helmet isn't much better, because what in the good hell is having normal pets.

At least he's smiling, kinda. For once.]

So...

[And from that one word alone, we are clearly in for a bit of a story. Why? Because why not, that's why. Just let him pet his giant sea slug and talk for a while, okay, don't crush his dreams.]

Once upon a time in a faraway country - as so many of these stories tend to begin - there was a King who was noted for his benevolence and charity to all his subjects. He was loved by all who knew him, which was fortunate for him, really, as he was also naive and, while well-meaning, easily taken advantage of.

A short time into his rule, he took a bride; the Queen he chose - for reasons that were surely only known by him - was one who was notoriously cold and had a reputation for being nasty in personality, and was just generally difficult to get along with. The respect she commanded was gained through fear, not love; it seemed no one loved her but the King, in fact.

[He pauses for a moment, tipping his head a bit before going back to petting the slug.]

To his credit, he loved her completely.

[That's better, apparently.]

Now, the King had a tendency to take walks through the garden every morning at a precise time, such that he could have an hour or so to himself every day before seeing to his duties as the ruler of the country. Which is well and good...until one morning, when he didn't return.

He was found a short while later, lying dead in that garden he loved so much, a single arrow piercing his heart.

[...okay, judging by this pause here, either he's collecting himself or the damn thing literally ends there; let's have a moment and pray that he's seriously not - ]

...You know, I've never known it to have an ending outside of that; that's always how I've known the story to go.

I suppose that's why I've always liked it so much, really; the ending can be taken any number of ways, depending on how you feel that day.

[Goddamn it, Alfred.]

It's one of those weird stories where I don't know where it came from, though...I mean, I suppose my father had to have told me at some point, since I can't imagine the scientists telling me anything of the sort - but I've no idea where he got it, if that's the case. My sister and I both know a version of the same story put to music; I just don't remember hearing it.

[...]

Is that common, do you think? Having something that you've known for so long that you don't remember where it came from, and it's strange for you to try to imagine there being a time where you didn't know it...?

[A - Daytime.]

[After the first night in the castle, Alfred has been way over on the subdued side; he's been avoiding most people and he's jumpy as hell when approached. The armory was disappointing - he's strictly a ranged-weapon sort of person, though at the same time he found that it's quite stupid for him to not take anything; he's got daggers on him for the time being, and if all else absolutely fails throwing one's blades is always an option, albeit a stupid one.

During the day, he's been spending a lot of time in that star chamber; he finds it calming, relaxing in ways he can't really explain, and his willingness to leave it is reasonably low. Oh, he's seen two sigil doors, and he's aware of the pink mark on the back of his hand; that doesn't mean he knows what to do with the damn things.]


[B - Nighttime.]

[At night, however...

There's a thing that's been in the corner of his vision since the first night - never really advancing, but always present. When he can see it properly, it resembles a man with arms that end in claws and wrapped up in a shroud, an enlarged, exposed heart just visible through tears in the fabric, pulsating slow and steady; whenever he turns to look, it's never really there, but as soon as it fades he can hear the screaming - the nails-on-chalkboard sound ripping out of the creature's own throat, accompanied by a higher-pitched sound that's most definitely a woman, and none of it is anything he really wants to dwell on.

One of these nights, he snaps; it's in the crystal study, and he's backed up against one of the cases, breathing heavily and shaking, and while the thing doesn't seem about to attack him, it is getting rather close.]

I-I didn't do anything but what you deserved...I gave you what you deserved!

[The thing snarls at him; he's quick to jerk back, rattling the case behind him hard.]

I don't know what you want from me - I did...I did what I was supposed to...

[And he's feeling for the dagger at his side, but he doesn't seem quite able to grip it properly, much less do anything useful with it.]

Didn't I?!

[...It's a bit hard to know what in the good fuck he's going on about; either way, however, it's clearly not good...]



[OOC - take your pick on whatever you want to do with this one, and if you want to go with something else entirely I'm good for that as well; just specify A, B or whatever it is you want in the comment subject!

ALSO if you need a pink sigil, this idiot's got one.]