9th Wave

[tentacruelest]

[Spam, taking place before he's abruptly rescued by his warden]

[Down on the pier in the seedier part of town lies the carnival part of the fair, locally known as the freakshow. Here lie bearded women and conjoined twins and all sights horrifying to the general public of the late 19th century.

And in one tent, shoddily constructed and guarded by a red-faced barker charging a nickel a head, sits what's being billed as the Crustaceous Man.

And inside sits an ill-tempered cursed Captain, waiting out this irritating turn of events in sour silence]

Comments

[tentacruelest]

[More than enough, clearly; Jones' claw is only as strong as a man's hand now, thanks to his warden sapping the strength from it some time ago. It's a hurt that still runs deep; once he could cleave a person's arm clean off with it, and had. Now, it was nothing better than dead weight]

It qualifies. At least I am not forced into ridiculous, idle conversation.

[myironeyes]

[It's a little difficult to give Meaningful Looks without eyes. Marsh settles for a long, blank stare, then a silent nod. He releases Davy's claw and sits down again. He promised Nathan he'd meet him on the Midway later, but he wants to hide away for a little longer.]

[tentacruelest]

[Bringing his claw back to his body, Jones gives a deep scowl and sets himself back down on his stool]


And you? I can't imagine you like to be stared at.

[myironeyes]

[He lifts one shoulder in a slow shrug. He doesn't care, at least not here, where he is merely a curiosity. At home, everyone knows too much about what the spikes mean - or what they meant.]

[tentacruelest]

...Feh. Go sit up on someone's mantle if yeh enjoy being looked at so much.

[myironeyes]

[He keeps his silence. He isn't actually trying to sleep sitting up, but it would be an easy mistake to make.]

[tentacruelest]

[With a grunt of annoyance and after his words go unanswered, Jones reaches over to push Mash off the chair, in order to check whether he's dead]

[myironeyes]

[Marsh bristles and huffs defensively like a very put-upon bird.]

...do you want me to talk or not?

[tentacruelest]

[Marsh's demeanor amuses Jones, but he dares not to smile just yet. Instead, he snorts and sets his claw back on his lap]

I want yeh to either speak your peace and leave, or leave without speaking.

[myironeyes]

[A small scowl, a pause, and then a nod.]

I will. In a little while.

[tentacruelest]

Good. Wake me when yeh decide to leave.

On second hand, don't.

[myironeyes]

[A twitch of a half-smile, which he mostly hides while bowing his head, silently acquiescing.]