8th Wave

[tentacruelest]

Th' next time this Barge feels like poking around in my head, I'll be keeping to my quarters. The lot of yeh - useless dregs not fit to scrub a floor. It's bad enough I'm locked in here with you, I don't need to call any of yeh friends.

[Private to Bush]

Was dealing with me yerself so difficult that you sought to work through less offensive channels, Captain?

[Private to Arthas]

A word, my king.

[Can you feel that heavy sarcasm, Arthas?]

Comments

[tentacruelest]

I'll be sure to carve out their hearts and present them t'yeh. Then yeh can speak of misreading.

[routemistress]

Please. Victor's tried that already and where'd it get 'im?

Go back to stroking your organ on your own, Jones. You're boring.

[tentacruelest]

Then cease babbling to me.

[routemistress]

Aye. There's bound to be some paint I can watch drying instead.

[tentacruelest]

You were th' one that spoke to me first, woman. But perhaps I can look to make this journey a little more exciting for yeh.

[routemistress]

Gets any more exciting I might pee meself.

[She's stopped smirking, and it shows, now, how tired and hollow-eyed she looks behind it.]

Do what you like. I couldn't give a toss.

[tentacruelest]

Yeh are near enough to despair already. It's difficult to pull someone from th' brink only to cast 'em back down again.

[myironeyes]

Stop.

The more threats you make, the more people will fuss at you instead of leaving you alone.

Iris, come help me feed Aster.

[tentacruelest]

Only because they feel my threats will go unfulfilled.

[myironeyes]

No.

I've been watching Hannibal Lecter since his release.

More people approach him now. It is harder to cow people who don't die. A few may weary of it, but the most bothersome ones will only see it as a challenge to continue aggravating you.

So stop.

[tentacruelest]

I'd love t'hear how you intend to force me, Marsh. Torturing others is the only entertainment I seem to get these days.

[voice]

[routemistress]

[It would be stupid to start crying again now. Good thing Marsh can't see the comm screen. She switches it to voice anyway, because Jones can and she has her pride.]

On me way, love.

[spam]

[myironeyes]

[He puts an arm around her as soon as she's through his door.]

[spam]

[routemistress]

[She's shaking with rage and grief, and she clings to Marsh like a child.]

M'sorry. I should know better. Shooting fish in a barrel. Now I might've set 'im on Zane or Rorschach or Chris or someone.

[routemistress]

Despair and me 'aven't ever been on speaking terms, sunshine, not even now. Get stuffed and deepfried.

[tentacruelest]

I hear the wounds and pain in yer voice, Iris Wildthyme. Yeh are too old for this world. How long before all wonder goes out for yeh and all that's left is boredom and indifference? Is that why yeh are so unaffected by my threats? Will the screams of your adopted boys fall on deaf ears, as they did not two weeks ago?

[routemistress]

Longer'n you've got the patience for, Spongebob, no matter where.

Birds to feed. It's been... something.

[tentacruelest]

Go. Ye'll hear from me again. Or from those I send to deliver messages to you.

[godsays]

What is the matter with you?

[tentacruelest]

Nothing that women like her have not pushed to this point.

G'dday, Zane.

[godsays]

Remember who you were in that flood. Remember what you told me.

Private

[shakenandlimp]

I wish you would not bait'm, Iris. I understand how it is to like him despite yourself and to want to draw him out, but he is as hurt as any of us, and an inmate besides.

private

[routemistress]

Aye. I'm sorry, Captain. I started out just teasing, like. Then I got away from meself some'ow.

I'm writing 'im an apology.

private

[shakenandlimp]

He will be surly over it, but I think some part of him'll be glad for it.

You have been... you've not quite been yourself since you got back, and - what happened, in that nightmare -- was not much help. Is there something-

[He's uncertain how to quite approach the simple question. He is used to brilliant, dashing people who are very touchy, and Iris is not one of those, but he hesitates anyway.]

Re: private

[routemistress]

[She scrubs a hand tiredly over her forehead.]

No. No, I really 'aven't. I 'ave days I think I'm all right and then the next thing I know I'm in a knock-down drag-out fight I didn't spot meself starting. I need to get a grip on meself before I talk meself into a demotion.

Did you notice that big empty space in me room?