Need help with a voice test or want to play anything at all with me? Just consult my muselist and put the name of the character you want to play with in the subject line. If there's a particular scenario you want to play out, feel free to stick that in the comment as well and I'll see what I can do. Picture prompts highly encouraged! This also works as a way to hit me up OOC-ly for any plotting. If you prefer that I make an individual entry (private or not) for our interaction, please feel free to say so here as well. I'm open to most things so come at me. :) For smutty stuff, I also have an open smut post.
[You put a lot of people from a lot of different timelines in one place and you're going to get people who screw things up. Who fuck shit up. It's a boat, a ship, whatever you want to call it and Grant Ward has been taken...back.
Taken back to a time when he could have been saved.
Taken back to a time when he could have been helped.
Never mind that he's found himself eight years old and confused as hell mostly because of the interactions that he's had over the past few days. There was a girl who called herself Skye who had an older asian woman with her, and an older man who had been very concerned about her. Then she'd yelled at him because they said he was the bad guy.
That was it. They were all adults and he grew up to be a bad guy. Just like mother said he would ("You rotten little shit, you'll never amount to anything!") Just like father, ("...Christian? ah. Yes Grant.") She'd practically screamed it at him, "I get superpowers and a family and you get nothing."
That was when both of them had come back out and looked at him, reached for him - but he wasn't having any of it. That explained the guns, that explained the fact that he didn't have any books or toys. Only a bad guy wouldn't have books.
(point of fact Ward had books, several paperbacks, they were simply stored under his bed for easy access as opposed to revealing them to the world at large.)
Everyone else is bonding with people, sharing moments and being held and he... he at least has moose, a worn looking thing with floppy antlers missing an eye. No Thomas, at last he was back to being the baby of the family.
With no family to take care of him.
Was this what being the bad guy was like?
He's sure, sure, absolutely sure that the old man and the asian lady aren't going to find him here in the garden on the ship so he curls up underneath the blanket he dragged from his room, opens the one book he knows (Robinson Curosoe) and tries to picture his gramsie reading it to him to no avail.
There's no gramsie here. There's nothing, there's just those cold hard guns and that mean little girl (bitch. That's what she was a dumb stupid bitch) and being the bad guy.
I don't want to be the bad guy but they said he would be so what choice did he have?
Sitting in the garden he wrapped the blanket over his head, inhaling the grass and began to cry. No loud angry sobbing like that little girl. A ward cried in quiet. If he was loud mother was apt to investigate. so he sniffled, letting out occasional sobs as he hid from the world.]
[Tending to the glass gardens aboard the ship afforded Margaery a welcome pastime. There were tulip bulbs to be planted along with the carrots and potatoes that helped to keep all the passengers sustained. One of the scientists aboard called it a "thriving ecosphere borne of hydroponics." As usual, Margaery offered a smile and a nod. Such matters were beyond her comprehension and, passionate as the botanist was, most of his words were wind to her.
Sometimes you're more heart than head, dear.
So said her grandmother whenever they took tea with the other ladies. Not entirely true. Margaery's heart guided her head, helped her navigate dangerous maneuvers on these tempestuous seas. Not a good head for numbers or scientific fact but it served her well during the soirees sometimes held on board.
A pity she couldn't be more bold. Sansa's wandered off again, laughing with some young man near starboard. It made her heart ache but Margaery does her best to brush it off, wandering to the gardens with the hope that her flowerbeds will serve as apt distraction. Though her heart leads her head, her head can do nothing to soothe her heart.
Soft grass greets her bare feet as she sheds her shoes. The dirt feels good between her toes and she basks in the false sunshine borne of the lamp above. She walks slow, taking in the greenery until the sound of a sob pierces the silence. Her steps speed up as she heads toward the source of the noise, coming upon a boy beneath a blanket.]
[It's not a voice he recognizes. That just makes him sob harder] Go away!
I'm a monster! I'll kill you! I'll shoot you and eat you!
[The words are sobbed out with as much anger as an eight year old can muster. It's an odd space for quite a bit of the boat to be in but there are little kids everywhere.]
I'm a monster! [Sniffle, cry. sob.] grr! Roar!
[The blanket moves forward like a scuttling thing, flopping and wriggling before it stays still and then begins to move away.]
[Hard as it is, Margaery stifles her laughter, biting her lip and holding it in. She follows the sheet as it moves along the grass, trying to catch a corner to tug on.]
Are you? Oh my, that's frightening to hear. I'm rather fond of monsters though. My dear friend is to wed an imp and he's one of the kindest men I know.
[Just a pity that it's him walking down the aisle with her rather than me. Oh well.]
Would you mind scurrying out? Let me see you for myself.
[Why would a boy call himself such while in tears? Were there bullies around?]
[Never did a lie feel more like a vice around Margaery's heart. Kneeling down, she nudges the blanket away and cups the boy's cheek. Snot trails down his nose and his eyes are red from crying. Without hesitation, she pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and dabs at his face.]
Who's been telling you such things, sweetling? I see no villain here.
[Villain. That's the word he was forgetting. He drags a hand over his face and grimaces.]
That girl! That girl with that old man!
[He sniffs and tries to squirm away.] She said I was the bad guy and I went into the room they told me to and there were all these weapons and it was true.
[One of her brows lifts and she tilts her head, giving him a quizzical look. The boy speaks of a bad dream as if it's reality and, more than anyone, she knows better than to dismiss a child's fears as nothing. When he squirms away, she pockets her handkerchief and offers her hand to him.]
That was cruel of them to say. I don't believe a word of it. You wouldn't cry if you really were what they say you are, would you? A bad guy wouldn't have the heart for that.
[That makes her pull back just a little, as if the child were a dog that had just snapped its jaws at her. Such language. The boy cries out for his "gramma" and Margaery considers how her own grandmother might react to hearing profanity from this child.
Probably pick him up to wash his mouth out with soap at the nearest sink.
All the better that Margaery happened to be the one to come upon this child. Not everyone can find the patience for little ones.]
You shouldn't say such things. I doubt your grandmother would want you to be so crude with your words. Is she on board, by the way? Perhaps I could take you to her.
[He is sorry but at the mention of his grandmother he looks ready to burst into tears all over again.] She's dead. She's supposed to be in heaven with Mr. Whiskers but Mother said...
[He can't bear to think about it so instead he hugs the moose tighter] I just don't wanna go back to that girl.
Of course, who would want to keep company with a bully? My apologies about your grandmother, sweetling. I didn't know. Would you like us to go look for your parents?
[Snotty mess that he is, she's willing to carry him if need be.]
If you don't feel like walking, I can pick you up. Both you and your moose.
[With that, Margaery decides to settle back on the grass, sweeping her skirts under her and stretching her legs out to the front before folding them to take on a lotus position. If he wants to stay here, so be it. She'll keep him company for as long as he wishes. One must never suffer to leave a crying child alone.]
Would you mind being alone together? I won't tell anyone you've been crying but I don't think I can leave you be until you're at least a little better.
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no subject
Taken back to a time when he could have been saved.
Taken back to a time when he could have been helped.
Never mind that he's found himself eight years old and confused as hell mostly because of the interactions that he's had over the past few days. There was a girl who called herself Skye who had an older asian woman with her, and an older man who had been very concerned about her. Then she'd yelled at him because they said he was the bad guy.
That was it. They were all adults and he grew up to be a bad guy. Just like mother said he would ("You rotten little shit, you'll never amount to anything!") Just like father, ("...Christian? ah. Yes Grant.") She'd practically screamed it at him, "I get superpowers and a family and you get nothing."
That was when both of them had come back out and looked at him, reached for him - but he wasn't having any of it. That explained the guns, that explained the fact that he didn't have any books or toys. Only a bad guy wouldn't have books.
(point of fact Ward had books, several paperbacks, they were simply stored under his bed for easy access as opposed to revealing them to the world at large.)
Everyone else is bonding with people, sharing moments and being held and he... he at least has moose, a worn looking thing with floppy antlers missing an eye. No Thomas, at last he was back to being the baby of the family.
With no family to take care of him.
Was this what being the bad guy was like?
He's sure, sure, absolutely sure that the old man and the asian lady aren't going to find him here in the garden on the ship so he curls up underneath the blanket he dragged from his room, opens the one book he knows (Robinson Curosoe) and tries to picture his gramsie reading it to him to no avail.
There's no gramsie here. There's nothing, there's just those cold hard guns and that mean little girl (bitch. That's what she was a dumb stupid bitch) and being the bad guy.
I don't want to be the bad guy but they said he would be so what choice did he have?
Sitting in the garden he wrapped the blanket over his head, inhaling the grass and began to cry. No loud angry sobbing like that little girl. A ward cried in quiet. If he was loud mother was apt to investigate. so he sniffled, letting out occasional sobs as he hid from the world.]
no subject
Sometimes you're more heart than head, dear.
So said her grandmother whenever they took tea with the other ladies. Not entirely true. Margaery's heart guided her head, helped her navigate dangerous maneuvers on these tempestuous seas. Not a good head for numbers or scientific fact but it served her well during the soirees sometimes held on board.
A pity she couldn't be more bold. Sansa's wandered off again, laughing with some young man near starboard. It made her heart ache but Margaery does her best to brush it off, wandering to the gardens with the hope that her flowerbeds will serve as apt distraction. Though her heart leads her head, her head can do nothing to soothe her heart.
Soft grass greets her bare feet as she sheds her shoes. The dirt feels good between her toes and she basks in the false sunshine borne of the lamp above. She walks slow, taking in the greenery until the sound of a sob pierces the silence. Her steps speed up as she heads toward the source of the noise, coming upon a boy beneath a blanket.]
Is something the matter, child? Are you lost?
no subject
I'm a monster! I'll kill you! I'll shoot you and eat you!
[The words are sobbed out with as much anger as an eight year old can muster. It's an odd space for quite a bit of the boat to be in but there are little kids everywhere.]
I'm a monster! [Sniffle, cry. sob.] grr! Roar!
[The blanket moves forward like a scuttling thing, flopping and wriggling before it stays still and then begins to move away.]
no subject
Are you? Oh my, that's frightening to hear. I'm rather fond of monsters though. My dear friend is to wed an imp and he's one of the kindest men I know.
[Just a pity that it's him walking down the aisle with her rather than me. Oh well.]
Would you mind scurrying out? Let me see you for myself.
[Why would a boy call himself such while in tears? Were there bullies around?]
no subject
...I'm ugly.
I'm an ugly bad guy.
no subject
Who's been telling you such things, sweetling? I see no villain here.
no subject
That girl! That girl with that old man!
[He sniffs and tries to squirm away.] She said I was the bad guy and I went into the room they told me to and there were all these weapons and it was true.
no subject
That was cruel of them to say. I don't believe a word of it. You wouldn't cry if you really were what they say you are, would you? A bad guy wouldn't have the heart for that.
no subject
[She's not here.] She'd put that stupid little bitch in jail.
[He is a boy. A 5 year old boy.]
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Probably pick him up to wash his mouth out with soap at the nearest sink.
All the better that Margaery happened to be the one to come upon this child. Not everyone can find the patience for little ones.]
You shouldn't say such things. I doubt your grandmother would want you to be so crude with your words. Is she on board, by the way? Perhaps I could take you to her.
no subject
[He is sorry but at the mention of his grandmother he looks ready to burst into tears all over again.] She's dead. She's supposed to be in heaven with Mr. Whiskers but Mother said...
[He can't bear to think about it so instead he hugs the moose tighter] I just don't wanna go back to that girl.
[and his voice goes soft] I was trying to help...
no subject
[Snotty mess that he is, she's willing to carry him if need be.]
If you don't feel like walking, I can pick you up. Both you and your moose.
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[He drags a hand over his face] Please don't tell them I was crying. Please.
If you gotta take me back...you gotta. I just-
I just wanna be left alone maybe. [He holds the moose.] damn it.
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Would you mind being alone together? I won't tell anyone you've been crying but I don't think I can leave you be until you're at least a little better.
no subject
[And he manages an uncanny imitation of an older male.] "wards don't display emotions." That's me. I'm a Ward.
And this is Moose.
[He holds up the moose.] I found him. In my room.
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[She japes and pins a knight's title on him to choke down her horror. Hitting a child is reprehensible.]
Even heroes should be allowed to cry now and again. Especially ones like you and your loyal steed.