Monday, December 19th, The Midnight Channel
Who: The Port's Latest Shadow Televisions Stars! And Thousands of Home Viewers!
When: Midnight, Monday, December 19th
Where: In front of your Television Sets or Streaming NV TV. (Digital Cable? You'll still get the analog effect.)
Summary: Full Plot Details Here
Warnings: Please Put 'em In the Subject Lines As Necessary, Kids?
( I We are living our lives, abound with so much information )
When: Midnight, Monday, December 19th
Where: In front of your Television Sets or Streaming NV TV. (Digital Cable? You'll still get the analog effect.)
Summary: Full Plot Details Here
Warnings: Please Put 'em In the Subject Lines As Necessary, Kids?
( I We are living our lives, abound with so much information )
Comments 351
A four-poster bed is in the middle, the gauze of semi-transparent drapes spilling over all sides. There's a silhouette of what was clearly a man tangled in an embrace, soft moans echoing muffled from beneath the mass of blankets. Soon, the white and tan scheme begin to change and everything becomes opulent and red, molding into what was apparently a high class brothel. There was an overtly suggestive, if not blatantly sexual tension lingering about the room, portraits of classic nudes hanging on the walls.
A rich, velvety voice calls out in a soft, come-hither whisper, enthralling the listener.
"Please do come in."
A suave man ( ... )
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What the fuck is even going on anymore. This is like the x-rated version of those Bruce Campbell's Old Spice ads with the wrong guy in it.]
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As much as Daedalus wants to laugh aloud at this reveal of Seward's hypocrisy, there's also-
A shameful bit of agreement, in arousal and the loss of professionalism, that he doesn't particularly want to acknowledge, especially with doctor being pulled into the equation. But it's so overt here, and co-mingling between disgust and excitement, his pulse is picking up, even as a spectator.
He's relieved that Franz is here, that he has a private life to speak of. There's so much sexual repression he's found an outlet for- maybe even an overdose of one, in the past year.
...Seward's situation-
Well, it's unfortunate. Pitiable. He'd like to talk about it, eventually (and especially considering Dr. Seward's interest in Re-l. He may need to reiterate firmly, just who is her personal physician.) but it would probably make for a terribly awkward conversation, one they'd both circle around reluctantly.
But for now, his guilty reaction to this merits tending to.]
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Perhaps this was a form of hypocrisy in the sense that he felt disgusted by overt displays of sexuality and yet still yearned for the touch of another as much as the next man. The difference was he did not indulge in the behavior himself, not even behind closed doors. So he didn't hide behind his virtue in the same way other men did. He just purposefully chose not to give it substance, or entertain perverted notions lest he feel guilty or ashamed.
It was quite doubtful in fact that he even was aware of this side to himself and would've been quite shocked to see this, that's how deeply repressed he was.
This was not a subject Seward cared to elaborate on by any means. It would've mortified him.]
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Anybody who says they’re all the same is lying. [ Out of nowhere a pair of scissors show up in his hand, and off goes the head of one the dolls. When he speaks again the tone is high-pitched and mocking.]
That’s why you need the whole bunch, I guess. They’re all special. [ snip snip snip. Three more Robins meet similar ends, and the mutilated little bodies get tossed aside. There’s red smears of blood on his fingertips, and he’s starting to smile, like the whole thing is joke.]
S’funny. Gets me every time. [ A hard, unhesitating snap and the next doll gets sliced right in half. The blood drips down his arm and onto the floor. ]But ( ... )
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It's out here somewhere. He knows it is. That soft, mocking laughter says so. ]
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No. No, the Shadow is wrong. It has never been about Dick's inadequacies or insecurities. Never.
Bruce has to find him. Somehow. ]
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Finally he runs out of patience and flings a batarang hard enough to miss by a mile, then lunges for a tackle aimed to take it right off the roof. It flits right by him, slips right past his fingertips before he can change trajectories, and he hits the stairs on the fire escape face first with a curse that would have grounded him for a week, if Alfred heard.
But Alfred's not here. He's not here, and he can do this all night. He can do this forever. ]
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She doesn't notice that the video's on just yet, but when she does, her bright yellow eyes flick over and she sits up straight with an easy smile.]
I am so, so glad I got picked for this. I mean, can you believe it? Jewels, free gorgeous gowns, tiaras-- What girl doesn't want a tiara? Not to mention more of the free stuff, like classes, butlers, and I could probably get more art stuff than I'd ever need.
[She giggles, amused at something for a moment.] Although, really? Who's ever of taking classes to princesshood? Practicing to make the perfect curtsy? How to properly refer or talk to people?
[She sighs and sits back in her chair, pouting.] I don't really want the work. I've done ( ... )
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[He's already out in the dark to help some friends, and Namine needs it the most right now. C'mon, c'mon, pick up, Namine.]
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H... hello?
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[A hesitant pause.] Did I... wake you or something?
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But there's no mirth in that smile.]
Is this thing ready to go? Good. Finally. I've been waiting forever to have my say.
[He stands, and the camera pulls back slightly, revealing a plain black notebook on a table in front of him.]
Actually, I've been waiting a long time. But no one ever listens. But you know what? This is my time and no one can take it away. Listen up, Siren's Port-this is my life.
[His movements sharp and angry, Roxas snatches the notebook and begins flipping through it as he hops up to sit on the table.]
Let's see. Day one: nothing. I guess that's not so bad. Most people start out with nothing, right? Sure, there's a lot I should have had, but trust me, it gets worse. Like here. [He flips through many pages.] Day 172. It was all downhill from there. 257, 298, 353...those were all pretty bad. And then we come to this.
[He holds the notebook open ( ... )
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Tonight, a lone spotlight turns on, its light falling upon the lone figure that appears on screen. He wears an expensive black suit on which a number of various white stripes are laid down in subtle to striking contrast, going jagged in their increasingly chaotic pattern under a black leather coat embellished in tarnished silver chains. Over this, a long, fur-trimmed cloak is wrapped around broad shoulders, a gradation of color from a pale yellow to a deep crimson, trailing and hanging around him, draping, rend ends wafting in airless silence.
The hooded figure remains dramatically poised. He cants his head, still faceless to the audience, his voice deep and clear. There's even a little more life in the tone. Gloved hands move slowly, weaving through the air as he speaks.]
I see the general populous of Siren's Port is very...opinionatedThere is nothing wrong with having an opinion. It can ( ... )
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And for the one individual I know very well, the growth in success and a good public image cannot outweigh the few instances of failure.
[The last word in particular has an uncharacteristic sharpness attached as the mask is violently thrown aside. He reaches to untie the next one, repeating the action.]
Failure to reach that dream, that very desire to become more than what is left.
Failure in pursuing the initial goal by taking a detour one was not expecting.
Failure to take full advantage of the situation before ending up here, in this city.
[Every other mask pulled off is done in the same fashion, gradually becoming aesthetically erratic, taking on a expressive form similar to a dance.]
It only continues when everything I worked for comes to a stalemate. That pact made with an enemy, the chance to regain power missed...the incessant bouts of so-called nostalgia and faulty memories. Your mind use ( ... )
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