16 ɂ list & spam

[mattersverymuch]

private } admiral

This still isn't funny.

➽ Selina: The finest-quality lockpick set.
➽ Kara: Something from her home planet, and photos of her family.
➽ Iris: A peacock-plume hat.
➽ Slevin: A clockwork heart, life-sized and wound to match his heartbeat and slow to a stop when he's about to die.
➽ Creed: Grimm's Fairy Tales.
➽ Door: Everything I stole from her father's study.
➽ Ned: Le Chat-Botte, first edition, and French; toys for Digby
➽ Dean: New boots. Good sturdy ones.
➽ Snow: A figurine of the white stag in oak, a hand's span.
➽ Stark: Coal. In the shape of a smiley face. [Like macaroni art.]
➽ Emperor: More bees.
➽ If you have any control over Prefect, wherever he got to, make sure he remembers this place. He's such an idiot, he's likely to forget.

flood spam } all over!

[The Mouse King is here to wreck your shit. Or at least attempt to wreck it, then disappear and leave you in utter confusion about whether he will, in the end, wreck it or not. There are some people - particularly Princes and their Soldiers - whom he will give a harder time than others, but mostly he'll be attempting to gather minions and waving a sword around like an idiot.]

[Find him anywhere, but particularly jousting at nothing on deck, causing pointless destruction in the gym, and stealing cheese and crackers in the dining hall. Also challenging various people to battles to the death.]

Comments

[deadly_ned]

[I don't think so, Mouse King. Because here come soldier and dog to stop you.

Not really dog, so much, who seems disinterested. But Soldier Piemaker is holding a pie in hand and is - yes, now he's flinging it at the poor Mouse King's face]

[mattersverymuch]

[The pie hits, with a squishy sort of noise, and the Mouse King reels back on his heels, clawing at his face. The outrage! The impossible outrage! Who would dare throw food at him!]

[Once he's cleared away most of the pie, throwing it in great gobs to his feet, he glares at the soldier and begins to make his way after him, with swift, menacing steps, his hand on his prop sword's hilt.]

[deadly_ned]

[With a triumphant cry, the Piemaker withdraws his own prop sword, directing the tip in the face of the Mouse King]

Arise, villain!

[mattersverymuch]

[He swats the sword out of his face, like it's a fly, then puts his hands huffily on his hips.]

I've arisen. I was already arisen when you hit me with foodstuffs. What mockery of warfare is this?

[He draws his sword and waggles it about menacingly.]

[deadly_ned]

[Looking somewhat deflated by how easily the sword is batted away, the Piemaker puts it against the marquis' belly, scowling]

Warfare nonetheless, O Mouse King! Will you yield?

[mattersverymuch]

[Oh yeah, well. His sword is placed against Ned's belly and wiggled around several more times for good measure.]

No. I don't yield.

Fight me if you think you can.

[deadly_ned]

[Giving a gasp of surprise and annoyance, the Piemaker takes a step back, defending himself]

I think so, sir!

[Digby barks. He is annoyed that both these people have sticks and aren't throwing them

[mattersverymuch]

[While the marquis would usually be paying a significant amount of attention to Digby at this point, having been worn down and given in to loving him as he deserves to be loved, as the Mouse King he ignores the dog utterly and parries.]

I think not!

[He is not nearly as good at comebacks as the Mouse King, either.]

[deadly_ned]

[The Piemaker is surprisingly good at defending himself - all those years of watching Star Wars paid off - and manages to fend off the marquis, backing away. He's only a foot soldier: not the dreaded Mouse King]

I think...so!

[The Piemaker is exactly the same skill level at comebacks as before]

[architrave]

[ Door isn't affected, despite her personal joy at finding a dancer doll with her own particular hair. She does notice the others that behave as if under a spell, and it fascinates her to no end watching them all dance and twirl around.

But then she spots the Marquis thieving crackers of all the things, in such a strange outfit...

Door has to go up to him in the hall, giving an exaggerated bow. ]

Your highness.

[ This'll be fun, won't it? ]

[mattersverymuch]

[The bow pleases him; he stands up a little straighter at it, and inclines his head regally in return.]

Subject.

Did you require something in particular? Battle will begin soon.

[Obviously. Based on . . . signs. Entrails. A feeling in his water, possibly.]

[architrave]

I am always prepared for battle, m'lord.

[ A feeling in his water, indeed. ]

My only question is: how do we fight the soldiers?

[mattersverymuch]

Well, we eat them, of course.

[He blinks at her for a moment, as if trying to figure out exactly what percentage of idiot she is.]

They are made of gingerbread, young lady.

[architrave]

Yes, of course m'lord, that they are, that they are.

Do we have a strategy? A plan of attack?

[mattersverymuch]

Recruit the hungry.

[Obviously.]

[architrave]

[ That pretty much sums it up, doesn't it? Door gives a quick little bow. ]

What of the mother one? [ Or whatever it was that...Iris? Had transformed into. ]

[semifreakingnormal]

[A foul demon! Scott halts his marching, leaning forward eaggeratedly with a giant nutcracker's head over his own. That rat - is a thief! Brandishing his sword, he skips forward on his toes.]

Halt! Hey, I said halt!

[mattersverymuch]

[He halts - abruptly, absurdly, with a little spin on his toes, turning himself to look at the interloper. Behind the mask, he begins to smile, and although it's not visible, there's something about all of him at this moment that indicates the smile is not very nice.]

I heard you. I've halted. Please, please: do go on.

[semifreakingnormal]

[Scott stops, one leg extended, toes pointed, look at how fucking graceful he is, okay.]

You'll...you'll return what you stole!

[mattersverymuch]

Oh, really!

[Scoff, scoff. Eternal scoffing. He twirls his sword and taps his temple.]

What do you claim that I've stolen? I'm a king. Kings don't steal.

[semifreakingnormal]

[Wow don't scoff at him. Look how he puffs his chest out, arms spreading to make a gesture that the giant nutcracker head hides.]

I saw you there! You took that cheese! King or not, that makes you a thief!

[mattersverymuch]

A king can take cheese if he likes. Technically it's my cheese anyway, since this is all my kingdom. That's perfectly reasonable. You're the thief, in my eyes.

[semifreakingnormal]

This isn't yours. This kingdom belongs to the good people here! You're the inter...inter-lap...you're the invader here! Put it back, and I won't have to punish you.

video;

[silvestris]

You're a wonderful mentor.

[She's thrilled. So very, very thrilled. And she hadn't even expected to notice Christmas.]

[mattersverymuch]

Oh, don't call me that. What a nasty word.

[silvestris]

Better than 'martyr' and miles from 'master', though.

[mattersverymuch]

I was talking about 'wonderful', my lady.

[silvestris]

Ah, allergic to praise, are we?

[mattersverymuch]

I was sincerely hoping it rated higher than merely wonderful.

[silvestris]

Oh but you know how contrary we women can be. You could steal the Eiffel Tower and I might just call it a neat trick.

[mattersverymuch]

That would just be a neat trick. Eiffel Tower's not all that impressive.

[silvestris]

Oh? What trick rates higher than wonderful for you?

[mattersverymuch]

Stealing Paris.

[silvestris]

Mm, just thinking of it makes me all...warm inside. A shame that we'll never be in any city long enough to grab it.