Noël Christenbell/Salt Lothrick (
saltysanta) wrote in
theianights2017-09-04 03:39 pm
❆ 1st Present ❆ [public video post] [BACKDATED to September 2]
[Have a young man in a monocle and top hat, complete with a sprig of mistletoe decorating the band, (which seems to be nothing but a belt wrapped around it) squinting dubiously into the mirror.]
She said this is some kind of..... magical intelligent telegraph, right.....? You just talk to it?
[It's a little hard to use, even after Fumiko had showed him the basics, but he's working on it--and his uncertainty is quickly covered with an irritated, impatient look.]
Right, then. Anyone who can see this, listen up! I'm looking for a reindeer with a red nose or a tall guy with long silver hair! They--he answers to Rudolph. You can probably get the idiot's attention with candy or cakes, okay? He belongs with me, and he's going to be in big trouble if he's here but hasn't tried to find me yet. You hear me, Rudolph? You'd better have a good explanation, or I'm cutting you off from sweets for a whole week!
.....Now, how do I make it go.....?
[There's a long beat of silence between his message and his realization that he's not sure how to send it. Noël's scowl softens a little in confusion as he starts poking at the mirror with a gloved hand; a few seconds later, the message ends.]

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[He looks kind of disgusted, but mostly just confused.]
The elves can find their own damn food, I'm not giving them my reindeer.
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But here's the real question. Is Rudolph DTY?
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[Utter incomprehension.]
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[He is full of shit, but what else is new.]
I mean, what the hell am I, your secretary? Someone's gotta keep tabs on this shit besides me, it's just not fair.
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[That gets his attention, at least.]
The elves take care of things like secretary work for us; you don't have to keep track of DTI or whatever it was.
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[Because where's the fun in being direct and nice?]
Granted, my memory's pretty shoddy in regards to shit from before, but that's a problem for all of us isn't it.
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[Have a flat look; his memory is just fine, thanks, as much as he wishes it weren't.]
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[But monsters were what made him leave London, in a sense..... and he only came back to London once a year by choice. Maybe..... maybe he was just remembering the city wrong, somehow? Maybe the cauchemars had done something--to him and to the city?]
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[Hal doesn't have to buy his own scam in order to sell it, but he knows he has damn good points, why the fuck else would he use them? But whatever. He's a genius computer program turned real fucking boy, so of course he knows better and knows just how to push at buttons to figure shit out. More or less.]
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[Have a disgruntled look; he can't escape the fact that most people think he doesn't exist, of course he knows it. Still, not believing someone exists because you don't believe in magic and superstition is way different than just trusting your own memories..... isn't it?]
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[It's undeniably a reluctant, grudging admission, but it's still a victory for Hal's bullshit. After all, what had happened last time he refused to believe or accept what someone was trying to tell him? He got Charles killed through his own stupid bullheadedness and refusal to listen. Does he really want something like that to happen again, if he can prevent it?
He's not sure what else he has left to lose, if Rudolph (and Pierre) isn't around--but the thought that he might, and has just forgotten about it..... it's undeniably unsettling.]
Even if it's true, though, we have no way of knowing or proving it either way. We can't exactly ask a bunch of murder victims about it, you know?
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Yeah. So I guess our first point of business would be finding out who killed our so-called "family" and why.
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[He hadn't seen even the slightest indication of who had done it, let alone why or how. Maybe Hal had seen something different at the party, such as it was?]
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[Hal had mostly been a creepy lurker at the party. Snagging a neat little egg and finding a nice tree to hide in and watch everyone's movements for future reference. Not creepy at all.]
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[Have an exaggerated eyeroll. He's not going to go around laughing for no reason, or get fat, or grow a beard. His outfit is just fine, too.]
I guess not, though. That woman with the cape was asking people what they knew, too.
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Fuck the opinion of the mindless masses and do what you want, I like it. You're officially the best fucking Santa, hands down. Good on you broski. Not to side track our great quest for enlightenment on our bullshit mindfuck situation, but I gotta ask. You do presents and do I have to be a good boy to get them? Because if that's the case, I'm gonna have to ask you to define just what exactly qualifies as naughty in your book.
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We each get one quota list to fulfill, with all the kids in the territory we cover. If you're on my list, then you're my responsibility, and I give you presents and do my best to keep you safe from monsters. It's no business of mine how you behave, just that you're safe--parents just use us as an excuse to threaten their kids into being obedient.
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[He shrugs, making a vague gesture with his hands.]
Insert lame joke here to cover up a deep seeded existential crisis or whatever.
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What makes here and your perceived reality so different?
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