faderift | THE SKULL IS IN

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THE SKULL IS IN

WHO: Eshal, Haku, Laura, and anyone else!
WHAT: Catch-all threading
WHEN: During this heat wave, of course! But not during Monster Madness.
WHERE: Everywhere!
NOTES: Bad advice.

I. ESHAL

It is an ongoing mystery how Skull ends up where he does. He is frequently decorating some surface in the Seneschal's office, in the library, in the dining hall, or propping open doors, or being a perch for some damned raven, or being used to crack open hard-shelled nuts.

It's all very demeaning. Particularly when it forces you to depend on the kindness of morons.

"YOO-HOO, OVER HERE!"

II. HAKU

This time, he's in the storeroom, right next to a jar of pickles. Leering would work so much better if he weren't on such a low shelf.

"YOU'RE A LONG WAY FROM HOME."

He says it to a set of ankles. It's a safe enough assumption even for one who isn't fairly sure those ankles came from a different world.

III. LAURA

And then there's this one, with knives for bones and all the trappings of a feral child.

"AN ODD DUCK, THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE."

IV. OTA - WILDCARD

[[ Feel free to godmod where Skull ends up. He's bound to turn up literally anywhere. ]]

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She taps her fingers on the glass of the jar, playing at idleness. "Then you know plans are worthless without collateral, hm? What needs to be promised to ensure you don't turn on me?"

She doesn't believe for a second a cursed (it's got to be cursed) skull in a jar actually loved plans for the sake of plans. Not even she likes those. How idiotic.

"...But, no, I didn't know that about clams." Is happy as a clam something people say in Trade? What is wrong with them...

"WELL, I WOULD RATHER LIKE TO STAY OUT OF THE OCEAN. I'VE BEEN THROWN INTO THOSE DEPTHS BEFORE AND I DIDN'T CARE FOR IT. YOU DO REALIZE THAT WHAT YOU'RE ESSENTIALLY ASKING IS FOR ME TO PROVIDE BLACKMAIL ON MYSELF?"

Probably the only way to ensure the strictest confidence would be to keep the jar under lock and key, but he's hardly going to suggest that.

"Blackmail is threats. I am making promises."

She looks far too satisfied with that phrasing (she stole it off a sea captain she fucked two years back).

"Here. I will promise to keep you far from the sea, and with a good view of... things..." She waves her free hand vaguely. They'll hash out those details later, apparently. "And if I, perhaps, need the preserved skull of a great philosopher mage to speak prophecy... or a strange voice coming from the wall to prove a place is haunted... you see?"

Aha, now that is the sort of chicanery Skull can get behind.

A pinprick of light, flickering like some distant green flame, appears deep in the dark, empty eye sockets of the Skull. The green liquid surrounding it shimmers, and the reflection of Eshal's face on the glass warps to look like someone older, more hunched, with glasses. And then, in his best impression of that crusty old philosopher who saw Skull as a mere paperweight:

"THERE IS A KING WHO WILL COME FROM THE SOUTH. HE IS THE SON OF A WOMAN OF THE LAND OF THE BOW, HE IS A CHILD OF THE HEARTLAND OF FERELDEN. HE WILL TAKE UP THE WHITE CROWN, HE WILL RAISE UP THE RED CROWN, HE WILL UNITE THE OLD GODS, AND APPEASE THE MIGHTIEST OF THEM."

He drops the theatrics.

"LIKE THAT?"

She smiles, pleased. She could give him notes, sure, but why cut the enthusiasm. "You have a knack. I see a beautiful working relationship in our future."

More tapping on the side of the jar.

"Where should I place you, Serah Head?"

The start of a beautiful friendship. Finally, some respect!

"SOMEWHERE AT EYE-LEVEL OR HIGHER, I HATE HAVING TO STARE AT THE LOWER HALVES OF MORTALS."

Edited 2019-08-27 15:51 (UTC)

She pauses a moment. "You don't want me to hide you in one of the washrooms, right?"

"AS HILARIOUS AS THAT WOULD BE--"

That'd be even more of the lower half than he usually has to look at.

Groooan. "I hate working with perverts. You don't even have a cock."

(She does. It's in a box under her bed.)

"A windowsill? You can look down on everyone."

"EXACTLY, A WASHROOM WOULD JUST REMIND ME OF WHAT I LOST,"

Full-bodied sarcasm from a fraction of a person.

"OH, I KNOW, PUT ME WITH THE RAVENS. I CAN PRETEND TO BE ONE OF THEM SPEAKING WHENEVER SOMEONE WALKS BY."

Eshal quirks a brow, but doesn't question it. What it wants is what it wants. She tucks it under her arm again, this time so it can face forward and see where she's going.

"And if anyone says anything interesting..." If it's smart, it'll figure out her implication. "Now, what should I call you...?"

"YEAH, YEAH, YOU'LL HEAR ABOUT IT."
Of course what counts as interesting is subjective, but this one seems to have similar motivations of chaos and fun, so perhaps Skull's idea of interesting will align with hers.

"YOU'RE OUT OF LUCK IF YOU WANT ME TO SUPPLY ONE; I CAN'T REMEMBER IT. MOST OF THESE FOOLS JUST CALL ME SKULL."
Or in Salvio's case, You.

"That is what you are." An important distinction for a woman who named herself to escape the constant feeling that she ought to be answering to karasten. "Is skull what you like to be called?"

Asking it what it wants? A novel concept. Has anyone else done that yet?

"I...I DON'T KNOW."

A fair consideration. It took Eshal weeks to find a name she likes. "Tell me when you know. If we're working together, I'm not gonna call you the wrong thing."

Speaking of- "Are you he? Or she or the- the other ones. They... it. Which one?"

"I THINK I WAS A HE, BUT I REALLY DON'T CARE ONE WIT ABOUT PRONOUNS. THEY COME AND GO SO EASILY."

"Pronouns. Right. That's what they're called. Qunlat doesn't have any, anaan esaam..." She shakes her head and taps the Skull's lid, almost affectionate.

"Let's get you to the ravens, then. Give me your best bird impression?"

A grin. This is a game they're playing.

The skull hinges its jaw open and the sound of a crow cawing issues forth.

"AND HERE'S MY IMPRESSION OF A TALKING BIRD. HELLO. I AM A BIRD."

Eshal cackles with laughter. "Oh, very good. A cow?"

She holds him up to look him in the... eyehole. Her expression is almost fond, but mostly excited.

The skull moos.

Eshal delights. "Can you make the sound of things... that don't have mouths? Footsteps? Creaking doors?"

A new plan is forming. (It's a lot like the old plan.)

"I CAN, BUT THEY DON'T CARRY WELL FOR SOME REASON."
Perhaps it has something to do with the jar, or maybe Skull is just shite at throwing its voice when emulating a non-vocal sound.

"So we'll get a cone to put in front of you. Still useful." She makes her way up the steps of the rookery. "Pick your favorite perch."

"OH, THAT ONE, IT'S TUCKED AWAY ENOUGH SO IT WON'T BE OBVIOUSLY ME WHEN THE RAVENS SPEAK."

Skull is actually looking forward to this strange woman's plans. Did he just make a friend?

He certainly made a partnership. Eshal places him carefully on the perch in question, frowns, and grabs some spare cloth. It's not to make the skull in a jar more comfortable; she's not that stupid (hopefully). It's to wedge the thing better in place, so it's less likely to fall.

"I'll come get you... in the morning? How about that."

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skulltasm - 2019-09-01 18:00 (UTC) - Expand

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