EVENT: TRUTH BOMB

[faderifting]

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: TRUTH BOMB
WHEN: Bloomingtide 15-17
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: OOC information. Use appropriate content warnings in your subject lines, please.

It’s an ordinary day—so not a very pleasant one. The weather is dreary and muggy, and the day’s lunch is a soup that’s a little too watery and bland. The griffons are being their usual level of noisy and swoopy. The work is its usual level of urgent and difficult.

But in the storage rooms, something wiggles. Then it hums. Then it pops.

Outside of the storage room, there’s no actual sound, no shift in the wind, and no visible sign of a change. But the pop might be felt—like the moment something finally clicks, or two ideas suddenly fit together, except the opposite. In the heads of everyone in the fortress, something is suddenly not connected quite right.

The first sign of what’s gone wrong is that someone immediately stands up and tells the cook how bad the soup is.

A lot of people’s days are about to get exponentially worse.

Comments

[inkindled]

Matthias isn't a strong punch unless he's seriously trying. If he's trying, he can put some (limited) muscle behind it. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He has been in his share of fights, so it isn't entirely unfounded.

Still. As his punch gets batted aside, he feels the immediate urge to punch, again. Withstands it, at least for the moment, and lets his sulky glare stand as his first act of retaliation. It's not as effective as perhaps it ought to be. Soaking wet, he looks like a drowned rat. Even so--

"You couldn't." This prick? Bury him? Better have tried and failed, obviously, because Matthias is still here. "If we're cursed, why are they not trying to break the bloody curse, instead of quarantining us, keeping us locked up--no one keeps me locked up--"

[altusimperius]

"I would," comes the lofty reply, and a sneer down his nose at the little shit. "And because this place gets fucking cursed all the time, then we wait it out like a bunch of rubes until someone figures it out and fixes it. It's not my job."

Glancing the boy up and down, he scoffs. "What is there to lock up, anyway? They could just feed you to the cats."

[inkindled]

"Oh, aye? Only if that's the attitude everyone's taking, then no wonder there's always curses about. Bunch of useless wankers," and he spits on the ground when he makes that pronouncement, so that's what he thinks of everyone.

And to make it worse, this particular wanker--who is likely some Someone, Matthias has seen his sort before, all swotty and jumped-up and looking down their noses, well good for him, see how far it gets him--thinks that he's funny. Matthias sneers right back at him.

"What's that s'pposed to mean, anyways. Is it an insult? Not a very good one. Been cursed with shit-for-brains, have you."

[altusimperius]

"It means," patiently spoken, like a teacher to a child, "that you look like a drowned rat. You shouldn't try to swim for the mainland at the best of times. There are eels."

Seemingly impervious to the insults in respond, Benedict at least isn't having that good of a time talking down to the fighty lad.

[inkindled]

"I don't give a shit about eels," or that's what Matthias intends to say, in full glower. Instead he says, "I hate eels," which is the truth of it, "and deep water, I hate it as well--which is why it obviously means something, if I'm willing to jump in and swim for it--"

Sullenly, he grabs at the bottom of his shirt and twitches it, trying to shake some of the water from it. This method might be more effective if he wasn't completely and utterly soaked through. There's enough water on him to fill a wash basin. Stray droplets spatter the paving stones and also Benedict.

"You're seriously all right with just waiting about for someone to fix the problem for you?"

[altusimperius]

"It means you're a fool," Benedict offers helpfully, sneering a little at the sight of the sodden lad. He steps back to avoid getting water on his shoes, but raises his eyebrows inquisitively to the following question.

"Oh, I-- yes. Yes, I am."

[inkindled]

"Now, that's foolish. You're foolish. And lazy. Probably wouldn't know where to start with fixing this or any other problem, even if you weren't lazy, 'cos no one's ever actually asked you to help--"

This is not really much different than what he'd say under normal circumstances. Matthias repeats the twitching movement with his shirt. This time, it's more deliberate.

[altusimperius]

"Stop it," sneers Benedict, stepping back away from the boy when he flicks him with water again, "I'm none of those things, I'm just also not an idiot who races into situations he knows nothing about. ...like deep water." A snide little smirk, and he tosses his head, turning to take his leave.

"Have fun."

[inkindled]

"Oh, all right--prick," Matthias offers instead, "if you like that better--"

And even as Benedict is turning away, he's flicking more water at him, obnoxious. This time he tries aiming high, shoulders, hair--hair would be best, he's got nice hair, such a shame to see it all damp--

[altusimperius]

A prim little wave over his shoulder is Benedict's answer as he walks away. Children.