✳ 003 ✳ [video] // [action] for Phancyhive residents.
[When the video turns on, it might seem like an accident: there's a colorful parrot tapping its pale beak against the screen. Tap, tap, tap. The bird is white and red about the face-- Abruptly startled by something--a dark blur?--it squawks and rears back and reveals even more red feathers and the beginning of blues and greens on it wings. It's definitely a Red-and-green Macaw, for the bird aficionados out there. It settles back down soon enough, chattering in confusion, atop a simple writing desk.]
This feels somewhat like a treasure hunt, [says someone off-screen. That masculine, velvety, dark slither-slide of syllables is distinguishable to a few people by now. Claude Faustus' voice changes inflection constantly, from middle-highs to the lowest of lows, but it's always rhythmic, deliberate, and especially careful. He doesn't sound reckless despite the frantic wooden clatter of a drawer opening and closing.] That is, when a person disappears--"has gone home," as the colloquialism goes--and you follow their final footprints, going back over where they were last. What were they doing leading up to departure? Did they find the means to escape? Were they merely victims of our illustrious Core? Are there any clues left behind--a map to the truth? 'X' marks the spot...
[Claude grabs his NV, which swings wildly out of control on its chain until it's made to recenter and refocus on the remainder of the bedroom. This one doesn't belong to Claude-- Sebastian Michaelis lives here, or lived here, rather, and Claude has unceremoniously upturned almost all of it. The bed, the side table, the bureau, all of it, looking for answers. No clues anywhere. No maps to follow. Sebastian was here not too long ago according to scent and spider spy, and then...
It's too quiet, and the parrot clicks. Claude is really at a loss for words. It's pitiful, he thinks, as if he's impervious to the same fate. Then, gathering himself, he turns the NV around so that he can be seen facing forward for once: unnaturally pale skin, wavy dark hair, clean butler uniform (old-fashioned), and two gold eyes that are colder and harsher than any sunlit arctic tundra.]
Sebastian Michaelis, [he says loudly, even though he knows Sebastian can't hear him,] it's impossible for me to express how disappointed I am in you. At a time like this, when your master has unmistakable needs, you would rather... [His eyes narrow with real disgust.] run away from him. Abandoning your duties yet again.
[The video slams to black when he shuts the lid of his NV--a louder, metallic sound--but his voice persists for one last statement.] No true servant would leave their master's side once found.
This feels somewhat like a treasure hunt, [says someone off-screen. That masculine, velvety, dark slither-slide of syllables is distinguishable to a few people by now. Claude Faustus' voice changes inflection constantly, from middle-highs to the lowest of lows, but it's always rhythmic, deliberate, and especially careful. He doesn't sound reckless despite the frantic wooden clatter of a drawer opening and closing.] That is, when a person disappears--"has gone home," as the colloquialism goes--and you follow their final footprints, going back over where they were last. What were they doing leading up to departure? Did they find the means to escape? Were they merely victims of our illustrious Core? Are there any clues left behind--a map to the truth? 'X' marks the spot...
[Claude grabs his NV, which swings wildly out of control on its chain until it's made to recenter and refocus on the remainder of the bedroom. This one doesn't belong to Claude-- Sebastian Michaelis lives here, or lived here, rather, and Claude has unceremoniously upturned almost all of it. The bed, the side table, the bureau, all of it, looking for answers. No clues anywhere. No maps to follow. Sebastian was here not too long ago according to scent and spider spy, and then...
It's too quiet, and the parrot clicks. Claude is really at a loss for words. It's pitiful, he thinks, as if he's impervious to the same fate. Then, gathering himself, he turns the NV around so that he can be seen facing forward for once: unnaturally pale skin, wavy dark hair, clean butler uniform (old-fashioned), and two gold eyes that are colder and harsher than any sunlit arctic tundra.]
Sebastian Michaelis, [he says loudly, even though he knows Sebastian can't hear him,] it's impossible for me to express how disappointed I am in you. At a time like this, when your master has unmistakable needs, you would rather... [His eyes narrow with real disgust.] run away from him. Abandoning your duties yet again.
[The video slams to black when he shuts the lid of his NV--a louder, metallic sound--but his voice persists for one last statement.] No true servant would leave their master's side once found.