Log:Get In, Loser, We're Leaving

Get In, Loser, We're Leaving
"Am not having much times," comes the mermaid's voice just above a whisper, "is wanting to leaves?"
Participants Etsy, CB	14 August, 2017 Getting out of the police station is much easier when you have a mermaid.
Location
-> >> Etsy to Here << <-============================================== Rolled 5 Successes for an exceptional success. < 2 4 4 5 6 6 6 10 10 10 10 10 > ============================-> >> Intelligence + Wits No Flags << <- GAME: Etsy spends 1 Willpower Game: Etsy has a 2-point "Fame (Escape Artist)" Merit. C.B. is being held in his own cell, not a shared cell, wearing his clothing from that night -- the normal kind of Ben clothes, i.e. workshirt and jeans, except his appear to be all ripped and bloodied. When he's not huddled in a ball in the corner, he is pacing back and forth...and back and forth...and back and forth...talking to himself, his face covered in bruises, at least one black eye. Bloodied lip. The cops can't see the lightning sparking wildly out from his form, of course, like someone's stuck a fork in a socket. -> >> Etsy to Here << <-============================================== Rolled 3 Successes < 2 3 4 4 6 6 6 8 8 9 > ===============================-> >> Wyrd + Persuasion 9-Again << <- -> >> Etsy to Here << <-============================================== Rolled 4 Successes < 1 1 1 1 3 5 6 6 7 8 8 9 10 > ========================-> >> Intelligence + Wyrd + 4 No Flags << <- She may be mad at him. She may have declared him to be a Total Butthead. She may have even sung a song on the Go Away about what a butthead CB is. But there is one thing that Etsy knows and believes before and above all other things, and that's that incarceration is bad for Lost. There's a solidarity there that goes above all internecine squabbles and petty bickering. So, sighing and muttering about 'stupid stupids and their stupid fuck face butt monkey heads' or something to that effect, Etsy gears up in the junkyard and walks to nearby the police station with a map case over her shoulder, her small metal hand mirror hanging at her waist and a stole around her neck that isn't actually a stole. She sets down her stole as it is actually an otter, and that otter scampers into the bushes. Then Etsy casually walks around the corner herself, and disappears. A few seconds later, the man talking to himself might notice a slight indentation in the cheap mattress in the cell, like someone's tiny butt is sitting there. "Am not having much times," comes the mermaid's voice just above a whisper, "is wanting to leaves?" Yes, incarceration is /very/ bad for Lost, and maybe /especially/ bad for this Lost. C.B. has been having a long conversation with his old mindfriend John Lennon about what they are going to do. Sometimes John has been there visually, looking all smug in his Sgt. Pepper's uniform, offering help at times, making threats at other times. Sometimes, he's merely heard John's lilting Liverpudlian accent at his ear. The longer C.B. is in here, the more certain he is that he will begin to hear voices, begin to see more old 'friends' come to visit... So it's maybe no surprise that the electric Wizened lets out a paralyzed scream at the sight of an invisible butt on the mattress. Thing is, he's been screaming and shouting and carrying on so much already that the cops mostly leave him alone. Why feed the crazy, right? They already hate this guy enough for what he's done, and because they made a big boo-boo, they probably won't be able to hold him here. This fucking guy. If only C.B. still had his pistol on him. He has nothing, of course, which is also why he's shaking (not having a smoke and/or drink in a few days can do that to a guy.) "I'M NOT READY TO DIE!" is the first thing he shouts, although his brow scrunches. Wait, did the voice just say something about leaving? He's much more interested in that. -> >> Etsy to Here << <-============================================== Rolled 3 Successes < 1 3 3 6 6 8 9 9 > =================================-> >> Larceny + Wyrd No Flags << <- GAME: Etsy spends 2 Glamour with reason: Artifice 2 the cameras The butt-print rises from the bed, and there's a soft sound of movement inside the cell. If CB were more together, he might be able to track the movement of the mermaid by the very soft sound of her climbing up on the toilet and touching the camera with her webbed hand. pop There's a subtle crackling sound and the camera puts up smoke. Then, a sigh as Etsy hops down ever-so-lightly and ever-so-invisibly and intangibly from the toilet. "If wanted to do a killing, would already be a deads," comes the very very distinct diction of the tiny mermaid. She doesn't approach him directly, but wanders back to the bed, sitting back on it. Probably so he can see the butt-print and can tell where she is. "Do not want to do a killing. Am here to have a leaving. Am going to do a leaving again without yous or with yous. Is your choosings. Are wanting to do a leaving, or are wanting to stay and looking like ground liver on goat butt on hot day?" C.B. can't really put two and two together right now, i.e. he can't really figure out this is Etsy. Any other day and he would surely get it from her speech patterns. Not during a burgeoning psychotic episode, however. He stares gape-mouthed at the camera -- something else he could have done himself, if not so distracted by John -- and then at the invisible girl on the bed. He may not know what the fuck is going on, but he knows he wants to LEAVE. So what does he do? He nods quickly, wide-eyed, not blinking, and little sparks of blue and white electricity crackle and fly all over the floors, spurting out of his fingers. Don't question it, C.B. This time, just go with it. GAME: Etsy spends 1 Willpower -> >> Etsy to Here << <-============================================== Rolled 0 Success < 1 1 2 2 3 3 3 4 6 6 6 6 7 7 > ===================-> >> Athletics + Wyrd + 3 + 1 + 1 No Flags << <- -> >> Etsy to Here << <-============================================== Rolled 6 Successes for an exceptional success. < 1 1 1 3 5 7 8 8 8 9 10 10 > ===================-> >> Athletics + Wyrd + 1 + 1 - 1 No Flags << <- GAME: Etsy spends 6 Glamour Well, this certainly isn't going to help things. The first thing that happens is that a mirror appears from literally nowhere. Like, nowhere. It's a roll-out sheet of metal, which shines brilliantly even in the darkness of the cell. It's shaken out and laid on the floor; the ends curl up just a little bit, as if it's constantly stored rolled up. (It is.) Then, a tiny hand closes around CB's, and the voice instructs, "Stepping onto mirrors," and, presuming CB does so, there's a moment of silence, and then a little sound of frustration. A rush of Glamour surrounds him, smelling of the sea air, crawling vines with little white flowers popping up all over the floor, a sweetness and the feeling of getting what you really wanted but didn't know you wanted. A moment later, CB's nowhere for a half-second, somewhere in the space that exists between all mirrors, and then, somewhat disorientingly, he's tumbling sideways out of a similar metal mirror that's been tacked up on the inside of a large tent set up near Tamarack Falls, one with a light pointed at it to be sure it stays reflective. There's a moment where C.B. closes his eyes and sways on his feet, like he's five seconds to passing out. But, amazingly, he doesn't. Even more amazingly, he doesn't argue with this newest voice; he steps onto that mirror, travels in that unique and disorienting manner, and then he's tumbling out inside that tent, making an unnecessarily loud sound as he does so. He tries to stand up and might hit his head on the ceiling, depending on exactly how large said loud tent is. Hopefully he won't start freaking out and just take the whole tent down by accident -- it's entirely possible. GAME: Etsy spends 2 Glamour with reason: passengers GAME: Etsy spends 2 Willpower with reason: passengers The tent is big enough to stand up in for a short person, but not tall enough for anyone larger than Etsy -- who is five foot nothing in her sock feet -- to stand up in without bumping their head. "Stay here. Sit down. I will be right back," she instructs him, still invisible. She knows that she is quickly running out of time, and doesn't have time to argue with him. Especially if he might take down the tent. There are a couple of sleeping bags rolled out on the ground, there's food -- lunch meat, mostly -- and a couple of cloth bags of something or other. A moment's silence, and CB can't see anything, but this is what happens: Etsy steps back out of the mirror into CB's cell. Rolls the mirror back up -- she can drop and raise her Phantom Glory as she likes, being unarmored and unarmed -- and then puts it back in its map case. Steps through the wall, runs out to the street, where she finds her otter, snatches it up in her hands, and steps through the reflection on a shop window. So, from CB's perspective it goes like this: 'Stay here.' About twelve seconds of silence. And then a blue-furred otter hedgebeast appears through the mirror. "She's very cross with you," the otter announces, as if it's been waiting to say this, "but you being in jail trumps that. Give her a moment, that was probably exhausting." Right, that's fine, now there's a talking blue otter. That's normal. Paradoxically, talking blue otters are /more/ normal than some of the stuff C.B.'s been dealing with lately. He stares at the otter with that unblinking stare, desperately trying to catch his breath. "Is there any...booze...or...I need a smoke...or something..." He runs his hands through his hair and squats down, covering his head with said hands. He's still shaking, and while confused, /some/ of this makes sense, in that way things related to the Lost can to someone who is actually Lost. There may be lots of other things that don't make sense, but. With any luck, he can deal with those later... With an exhausted sigh, Etsy fades back into view, sitting on one of the sleeping bags and looking like someone literally stuck a straw in her and drained her. Her flowers are droopy, her eyes are shadowed and briny-colored, her skin looks ashy and greyish rather than its usual pretty white with blue highlights. "Mrbl," is the first thing she says, and apparently that's the otter's name, because it turns its head. "Drinks please? And cheeroots? And smokes?" "I am not your butl-- " "Not now, mrbl," Etsy sighs, wiping her webbed hands down over her face. She turns her attention to CB, then. "You are doing such a stupids, CB, but am not leavings you in the jails." Apparently in the bags are bottles of mead, a bag of weed and rolling papers, a lighter, a pack of smokes, packs of jerky, and dried cheeroot. The otter starts by handing a bottle of mead to Etsy and offering one to CB. "Just sit down, drink the mead." C.B. blinks. Blinkblinkblinkblink. Yep, Etsy was just about the last person he expected to see here. Still, /he/ doesn't have anything against her, really, even if she thinks he's a stupidhead. He extends a shaking hand towards the mead and falls back on his haunches, landing on the ground of the tent. First things first, he takes such a long swig from the bottle it's a wonder he doesn't just choke on the stuff. He gasps for breath once he comes up for air, bloodshot eyes rolling up to peer at Etsy. "What happened?" he asks, still confused. He eyes the cigarettes hungrily but doesn't reach for them without being offered. He can be polite! It's impossible to overstate just how drained Etsy looks. She'll probably feel better after a brief rest, because she did just live up to her Charitable nature and take significant risk to get him out of there. Opening her own mead, she takes a swallow of it, leaning forward on the knees propped up in front of her. Her knees. They aren't just some random knees she stole. Though with Etsy you never know. A gesture toward the otter, who, picking up the cigarettes, opens the pack, takes one out, and lights it. Yeah, the otter lights a cigarette. That's why Etsy has a hedgebeast with hands, motherfucker. "She took you mirrorwalking," the otter explains, passing the cigarette over and wrinkling up its little nose irritatedly at the smoke. It skitters over to open the side flap. That is the sound of a waterfall, somewhat distantly. "This is what she does. She's kind of famous for it. She broke the cameras in the cell, walked in through the wall, took you out through a mirror, and then went back to get me and take the mirror." A pause, as the otter skitters back over to start rolling up a joint, which is probably ridiculously adorable. "She'll talk in a minute. She's very tired. Takes a lot out of her." A hedgebeast with hands in (pun intended) handy, really. Why can't Yossarian light /your/ cigs, C.B.?! Regardless, C.B. reaches out and takes the cigarette from the otter, after he can steady his hand for long enough. He's listening, surely, but he closes his eyes and takes a long, /long/ drag. "Oh thank fucking god," he mutters to himself, sighing out the smoke, and then he blearily opens his eyes to watch and listen to the otter. "Mirrorwalking," he repeats, and then angrily hisses "Shut up!" to...well, no one here, because he's looking behing him, away from both Etsy and the otter. He stares back at the otter again, continuing to smoke and drink like it's his job. "She broke me out of...where was I?" His brow all scrunches up and he runs a hand through his brown and silver hair. "Jail? I was..." His gaze flits over to Etsy next, just watching her. Probably trying to figure out what to think, how to feel, what to say. He is still very muddled. It takes a fair amount to make Etsy really concerned, especially when she just spent 3/4 of her glamour and most of her willpower, but CB's doing it. She sits watching him for a moment, then leans over and picks up some of the dried cheeroot, chewing on them. "Who is yelling ats, CB?" she asks carefully, soaking in the glamour from the healing fruit rather than actually being healed by it. "Is only you, me, and the otter here." "You were in jail," the otter explains, lighting the joint, too, and handing that to Etsy first. The Spring takes a couple small tokes from it and holds it out toward CB. He'll need to figure out how to manage his bottle, his cigarette and that, but, you know. "She rescued you from jail." "Not doing okays, CB. Jails is not a goodness for us. Doesn't matter how am feelings, matters to not have you in a jails. Probably a problems later with polices, but, eh. Cannot write if a brains in pieces." Etsy's expression slowly relaxes as the low-grede euphoric of cheeroot combines with the THC. Much better. C.B.'s face scrunches up again. He bites his lip and...doesn't answer, when Etsy asks him who he's yelling at. Instead, he stares down at the floor with the same wild-eyed, thousand-yard stare he's had going on, and mutters some sort of apology. He only looks up again when the joint is offered. He eyes it almost suspiciously for a moment before taking it. He forces himself to take a /very/ small toke, which is the opposite of the way he's treating that bottle and that cigarette (both of those are already nearly gone). And he hands it back to Etsy as quickly as he can, almost like he's afraid of it. Once again, then, his eyes are on Etsy, the lightning inside them crackling dimly. He swallows and says, after another glance at the otter, "Well, uh." His voice is all hoarse and he swallows again, harder this time. "Th-thank you. For, um, doing that, I..." His eyes widen again. Maybe he's wondering what the cops will do to him now? Who knows. He's clearly not in his right mind. -> >> Etsy to Here << <-============================================== Rolled 5 Successes for an exceptional success. < 1 1 2 2 3 4 4 4 5 6 6 7 7 8 9 9 9 9 > ==-> >> Manipulation + Persuasion.Big_Eyes + 2 + 2 + 1 9-Again << <- She takes the weed back, takes another toke -- the idea is to take the horrible edge of being low on glamour away, not get so high she can't deal with it if shit happens -- and then pinches it out between her fingers, hissing annoyedly. The joint is handed to the mrbl, and she instructs, "Not forgetting to put back to a Leo's stash place." Look, borrowing weed from Leo for a good cause, he'll understand that. The mermaid, all sweet siren voice and delicate looks, turns her attention fully to CB now. She doesn't necessarily like doing stuff like this -- it's a little too much like luring in people trying to escape from her Keeper so she can drown them -- but he's clearly just not doing well. "Who is a talkings to, CB? Why is so afraids? Is out, now. Is free. Take breaths, relax. Is many more meads, and if runs out, can get from refrigerator. I putting a light inside always on and a mirrors to get more of a meads if needing." Of course she did. Why do something the normal way when you can use Changeling magic? "Do not be afraids. Is safe. Is stay here, is make a phone calls if needs a phone calls. Is relax. Is a deep breaths. Is take a naps. Tomorrow, is a betters. Humans is humans. Can talk a humans into anything. Is most important that a Lost is not in a cage." She's eerily persuasive, isn't she. Even the often-combative, argumentative C.B. seems lulled by her questions. He attempts to breathe out (he was holding his breath) and manages not to lie about this particular thing. Although he's more of a truthteller by nature, this is one of those things he's learned to lie about. But instead he says... CB says, “John. I was talking to John. He's being an asshole." C.B. frowns and drinks more mead. He rubs the bridge of his nose, like he feels a headache coming on. "He keeps saying he's gonna get Bartleby to explain it all so I realize exactly what kind of position I'm in, and I just don't need that right now...you know what I mean?!" He waves an exaasperated hand, like, of course she should know!” She's eerily persuasive, isn't she. Even the often-combative, argumentative C.B. seems lulled by her questions. He attempts to breathe out (he was holding his breath) and manages not to lie about this particular thing. Although he's more of a truthteller by nature, this is one of those things he's learned to lie about. But instead he says... "John. I was talking to John. He's being an asshole." C.B. frowns and drinks more mead. He rubs the bridge of his nose, like he feels a headache coming on. "He keeps saying he's gonna get Bartleby to explain it all so I realize exactly what kind of position I'm in, and I just don't need that right now...you know what I mean?!" He waves an exaasperated hand, like, of course she should know! Flowerings are eerily persuasive. The air around her smells sweet of water lilies, salty and fresh like the air over the sea on a Spring day. In an enclosed space like a tent? That's a heck of a thing. Her Spring mantle has already started overtly colonizing all the room inside the tent, and she finishes her first mead, reaching for another one. And then CB says that he's talking to ... and she blinks twice. "Oh," she agrees, keeping her face to that practiced liar's expression that she has practiced so very, very well. "Well, maybe is a goodness to finish cigarette, make a phone calls -- I bringed a phones of pre-paid -- and has a nap, okay?"