o p e n p o s t.

[chardismastic]

( x )

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[chardismastic]

[ from here ]

[ Tossing his phone on the desk now that Hawke's in front of him, Rafe clucks his tongue in mild dismay. ]

Wouldn't you know it — missed the window. Just about five seconds ago I realized I had this deadline to make and that pun was just too much to tolerate.

[ Disappointed, he shakes his head and shrugs. Not that he can keep this up any longer than Hawke's supposed contrition. ]

Them's the breaks.

[bloodmagics]

[In hindsight, he really should have expected this. The pun, whether he truly intended it or not, was definitely a mood killer. So he has nobody else to blame but himself for the fact their new plans are currently in limbo. Hawke frowns. More of a pout, really.]

A deadline. [Hawke braces himself on the desk between them. He sincerely doubts there's a deadline Rafe has ever forgotten about for even a second.] And I said I'd make up for that!

[If something that terrible can even be apologised for.]

Not even going to give me a chance?

[chardismastic]

[ from here ]

[ RING RING, DUMBASS. And as soon as Flynn picks up the damn phone: ]

What do you mean, the locals are still shooting at you? How the fuck do you not call me the second this happens — instead you're bitching at me about sexting?! The hell, Harry!

[ Rafe's pissed as anything and in the middle of cutting things short to get back on site soon as possible. Half of it is indeed directed at Flynn was in charge and should've sent an update soon as it happened; the other half's saved for the jackasses he supposedly bribed to prevent all this.

Note how nowhere in this he cares about Flynn's sunburn. That's just what you get being British in the tropics. Sunscreen is a personal responsibility. ]

[noterrol]

[And here is Harry Flynn, squinting out into the bright, tropical day in the middle of a bunch of ruins, the dig around him far too meticulous for his taste. He hasn't even been able to do what he came here for—explore and pillage—because he's been stuck here dealing with this rubbish.]

Look mate, it's not my fault the security detail you've hired on is shite. May I remind you what my job is? Because it isn't this!

[He grumbles, then throws back the rest of his cerveza, tossing the bottle into the grass just outside the dig.]

Least you can do is throw me a bone, Christ.

[chardismastic]

[ from here ]

give it forty minutes for elmdale

god could they have gone any more generic with that name

[ where does a person even meet up in a place called elmdale?? are there even bars??? or is it a footloose sort of situation who even knows

at least he's bringing his own supplies tonight ]

[tastemaker]

When the alternative is Schitt's Creek?

[Needless to say, there are worse names. Elmdale and its Blouse Barn are blights upon the creative psyche but David is nothing if not stubbornly clinging to his identity.]

there's a dive at the edge of Elmdale so the options are that, or a delightful stay at the Holiday Inn

[tastemaker]

or a refurbished barn my sister's ex lives in, but he's out of town for a while

not!canon ryslig stuff 👀

[magicalglowstick]

[There's no mistaking that this place is awful. But in some ways it was more tolerable than Kirkwall. That's probably a strange thought to have considering he's apparently bound to turn into a monster, but maybe that says more about Kirkwall than Ryslig.

His feet dig into the soft sand beneath, cooled off as the sun finally set. Claws were just starting to really come out...same thing with his hands. He tries not to think about that though, the alcohol smothering these intrusive thoughts with a blanket of haze so he can instead focus on the cool sand and the breeze, the distant noise of the festival going on further down, and the edge of the waves barely touching his feet.

His thick reptilian tail lazily drags back and forth along the sand in...contentment? Weird thing to feel considering he's on his way to becoming a monster, but he's determined to enjoy whatever time he has left as himself. Before both his mind and body are taken completely. Part of him knows it's the booze, but he doesn't care.

He turns to Rafe, tail swishing about and making a deep line in the sand.]

Call me crazy, but it's a nice night, isn't it?

[He feels crazy for saying it. "Nice night"? He has horns and claws for Maker's sake. But that doesn't change the clear sky, the stars dotting the darkness of the night, and the gentle breeze.

And the company. He very much has come to enjoy Rafe's company. The harsh, unrelentingly blunt man is a strange sort of comfort and he still can't fully explain why.]

👀

[chardismastic]

You're not crazy.

[ Isn't as if the weather has anything to do with what's happened to them. Happening. Would be as pointless to begrudge it as it would the stars, or the water curling at their toes before retreating back to the ocean. The stars are where Rafe's gaze is fixed now, chin tipped up as he searches for familiar constellations in spite of knowing there aren't any. Strange up there as it is down here.

Because yeah, Fenris has horns and a tail and claws and scales coming in on top of it all— and even before that, he'd had ears and the tattoos that glows, none of which was normal by his standards before getting here —but what trumps all that is what Rafe sure as hell doesn't have: a pulse. He can almost forget, a few moments here and there in the daylight hours until he catches sight of himself, streaks of black against tanned skin. Until he stops the dead man walking act and he can feel the stillness within himself. No breath. No blood. No heart.

The sun's well set by now but it's Rafe who's been made a statue, sitting motionless as he watches the sky. It's already habit to keep Fenris on his better side. Granted, there's a few blotches at his ear and creeping at his collar, all right, but overall... He still looks like himself. If he has to wear long sleeves at a beach, keep his boots on to keep that illusion rather than dig his toes into the sand, then— So be it.

Eventually, the statue speaks again, tone as level as if the weather were the only thing on his mind. ]

Suppose it wasn't a total wash coming out for this shindig after all.

tflns bc i had to

[pilferings]

apparently, dueling with garden tools in Home Depot is strictly frowned upon

1/2

[chardismastic]

i literally left you alone for two minutes

*two minutes*

[chardismastic]

what were you using to duel with

[ look, he can judge Nate for being a five year old and still be a sword nerd about the incident. ]

gently touches

[snaffled]

found crayons in my last pack of fags
i can't help but feel you may be responsible

slaps ur hand away

[chardismastic]

wow, that's so unfortunate

you telling me you didn't want to taste the rainbow?

1/idk he's spiraling don't help him

[libertalia]

il cazzo di tuo marito è così grande? ;)

( to his credit, he really, really, really absolutely never meant to send rafe that or the picture of his dick that follows — or anything even close to the dick-region of his body, or like. even a goddamn selfie. zero sam-related imagery or sexting was meant to be sent to anyone with the name adler or any fucking adler affiliates. they operate on a strictly (mostly) professional text-only basis here unless it's pertaining to business. which this is definitely not. so, you know, you could say THIS WAS A HUGELY MASSIVE MISTAKE. and he's going to realize it in 3...

2...

1... )

[libertalia]

oh shit

[libertalia]

SHIT

fuckin

christ

[libertalia]

( HOW DID THIS HAPPEN GODDAMMIT )

[libertalia]

rafe i swear to jesus mary and joseph

[libertalia]

and the 12 goddamn apostles

[libertalia]

don't even think about looking at that or i will murder you in your sleep

[libertalia]

( is that an empty threat? who knows. maybe it's only half empty. but he has a shiv and he's not afraid to use it. )

[libertalia]

where is the goddamn

[libertalia]

fucking delete button

[libertalia]

how do i unsend this shit