Stocke (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
makehistoria) wrote2014-11-10 08:49 pm
makehistoria) wrote2014-11-10 08:49 pm
Entry tags:
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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, <MOIRAE>.
FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 44.78.67.42 | ||||
| • Stocke uses <swordpacts> and <moirae> interchangeably; the former especially for Devil's Nest business. Any of his friends/fellow Nest employees probably have his number. |
<avaricious>
litttlle diffrent this timme. no chnngeto that. ouurfriend there dciiddedtomak e a prttystupid deciisiion. dooesnt mtter. his cho ice.
<swordpacts>
what did he do
<avaricious>
[Not that he can see. Still - Stocke and Mello's relationship is tentative at best.]
noot hing to do withh us ifff thats what youure worr ied abuut. itss a littl e complic ted
<swordpacts>
[...]
alright
then what is it m wants
<avaricious>
[The background noise: by now, it should be as bright as a photograph. The wheeze from the furnace coils just outside the line - its muted sound, lightly plucked by a drumming, pitter-patter drip. Greed grunts on the other end and as his nails scratch, they echo beneath a deepening hum. As if a fan nearby is sucking, just sucking, the air to a dry.]
Still upset with him, huh? That grudge of yours - [The Sin lazily prods the inside of his cheek.] - ehh. [Where ever he is, the pitch of his tone seems to stick to the surface. Humid. Dank. The former homunculus grabs something outside the feed and with a few, brisk brushes, he snatches the edge of the laptop.] You really should let that go, y'know.
[Which - ]
[A door opens, a breeze whirls by, and Greed quickly rattles his fingers through his hair.] Him and the Warden. He decided he didn't want those memories anymore, so to make sure it goes smoothly, we can't mention it. L, Linden, whatever he wants to be called. Like I said, it was a stupid decision. But that's his choice.
[The bulk of the device clacks unceremoniously onto a surface, leaving the Sin to wander.] Think you can handle that? I'm really not interested in the trouble, but he asked. And whether you like it or not, he's still one of mine, Stocke. So try not to hold it too much against him, hmn?
<swordpacts>
it's not a grudge alone
i don't trust him
[You just keep on telling yourself that, Stocke.]
understood
if he'd like to erase his own mind
[...]
i won't ask him about linden
you wanted me to tell the others ?
<avaricious>
[Rap, rap, rap, go his toes. The replacement of his boots, sharp and distinct. The Sin lets a wispy sigh skate through his teeth. It isn't tired. Not exactly. Instead, the pitch of it is aged. Sleepy. The tune of an old book, wrenched open after years of forgetfulness, left to yawn out its dusk. Greed's nails clack around the belly of a glass and as he drifts away from the receiver, the furnace answers lonely in response. A gesture of a conversation as wordless as a dog and its master, resigning to the late, wee hour.]
Not that I entirely blame you, but humans - they make mistakes, friend. Or did you forget about that little stunt of yours? [Despite the subject, there's no a hint of viciousness to him. Resigned; maybe, that's the best word for it. No matter how much the world around changes, no matter what, new disaster Ryslig brings - ]
[The former homunculus takes from the glass; the ricket-rack of ice, thinning to slivers.] What a waste -
[The glass goes dresser-side up and the Sin mindlessly tosses his wrist.] Make sure the others know. I'd prefer if we can keep any problems from happening in the first place. [Though, from his side: something lingers. A hint, barely visible, holding at the backs of his teeth. Erasing. Forgetting. Purification.]
[Ah, doesn't it just hit home, home, home.]
[Greed flicks his tongue - his forcing smile, gliding to an audible focus.] Take the rest of the night off, after. I doubt it'll be busy and I've got other business, anyway.
<swordpacts>
[...]
don't know what he told you back then
but what i saw
doesn't matter
he's one of yours , so i'll watch out for him if it comes to it
but i'll be watching him at the same time
i'll give them a word
[...]
haven't seen the new one yet
<avaricious>
["you shouldn't trust me either."]
[For a while, his side of the line is dim. The furnace dully pops off its spit; the window's curtain lurches and shrinks against its frame. Greed dips somewhere, unseen and unheard. Trust - it's not something so easily earned. It comes with years, with days, exchanged, leveraged and spent. However, all things considered: they've had their share, haven't they? Time and time again - ]
[The Sin sucks a breath deep down and as he exhales, a flee of smoke races from his gullet.] Don't be stupid, Stocke. If I didn't trust you, you wouldn't be here in the first place. It's the same with him. What the two of you have done - do you really think I'm about to hold it against you? [The tnk of glass that follows him is practically picturesque. His knuckle, rapping against the lip of an ashtray. A clump of used ash, falling away as lightly as a feather, taken by a breeze. The former homunculus tosses out his arm.] You should know me better than that.
[Crt, and the porcelain dish lifts into his hand.] I know you will. It's the reason I told you in the first place. What, do you think this is my first time? [The Sin tips his head and while the recording doesn't give much, the feel of it. It's as if his smile could burn through the radio waves; a small sliver of hell cooking, just cooking, a demand for attention.]
Glad to hear it. You're not always so reasonable. And don't worry - if he pulls another stunt, I'll take care of it. Try to calm down once in a while, hmn? [One of his wings stretches outward. Like all else, the expanse of it creates a kind of suffocation. A constant fume of heat and fuel, igniting in a welcoming atmosphere.] Hmn - ? Ah, right.
[Greed pops his shoulder.] Her name's Laura. She might not particularly like me very much, but it seems Mason and her get along fine. I'm sure she won't be a problem for you.
<swordpacts>
[...]
laura
alright
i'll ask mason about her
<avaricious>
See, wasn't that hard, right? [On the other side of the line, the Sin lazily tilts his head. The gem looped through his ear quietly trills a second time, his smoke air(ily) leaks. Stocke's a creature of caution when he has to be. Not to himself, no, but everything else - ]
[Greed's fingers spiral and a candle nearby shoos to life. Fwoos.] Relax, friend - if I thought it was going to be a problem again, I would have already taken care of it. Besides, even if he does try to pull another stunt - [Briskly and far-too-suddenly, the flicker of fire violently snuffs out. It hisses between the pads of his fingers like a cut-short fuse; a statement, a punctuation, silent with its threat.]
[Mello's already taken his chance. There won't be a second time.]
[The former homunculus cleans his fingers and as his nails swipe, a dramatic sigh fissures in his chest.] Ehhh. You really need to learn not to take things so seriously. I've been around a long time, Stocke. You don't actually believe someone hasn't tried it before, do you? People like that - they either learn, or they don't. So try not to hold it too much against him, hmn? There's no point.
[Because it's done. M's learned his lesson, Linden's got the notes; if they didn't get it the first time, the second? Well - ]
[Another rustle hisses through the receiver and Greed drops a half-damp towel onto the chair nearby.] Worry about that tomorrow. Now go. I don't really care what you do, but try to do something worth it, would ya? You can be a real stiff sometimes -
[Of course, his tone is teasing. A light jab, a soft nudge. All too often, the other's on a constant state of alarm. Be it the Gods, their followers, a threat, something else. Greed perks his head and as the door behind him sways open, the change in his expression is audible. A hint that tonight, ah tonight.]
[He has a little company in mind.]
I'll leave you to it. Just remember what I told you, Stocke. [Crt, crt, crt, goes a talon: Nois's telltale entrance.] Fun isn't all that bad, y'know.