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Post by Vagabond[101] on Feb 8, 2012 23:23:52 GMT -5
"Uhhh, oh. I figured it'd be easier to beat you into a backwards pulp if I got the drop on you. Y'know, psychomalogical combat or whatever. If I freaked you out maybe I could get in a good solid uppercut before you could do anything." Vagabond said absently. "C'mon, way's clear." He tried to sneak forwards, but on his very first step his foot collided with a loose bolt and a loud expletive rang through the air.
He hopped up and down on one foot, his enormous hands cradling his stubbed toe. A small stream of garbled gibberish quietly fell from his mouth as he struggled to keep his voice down. He turned to Edgar and bared his sharp teeth at the taller ragdoll. "SHHH!" He put a finger to his lips and continued to sneak onwards, limping slightly now.
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Edgar [44]
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[sub]shall be lifted nevermore[/sub]
Posts: 29
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Post by Edgar [44] on Feb 10, 2012 23:09:44 GMT -5
The tall doll's face twisted in a worried frown. "I see..." he mumbled, falling behind slightly. Almost involuntarily, he brought one hand up to the scar on his face, clawed forefinger running along the stitches.
A silence stretched for a moment, in which one could very nearly hear Edgar's optics click as he blinked.
"That's 'psychological'," he corrected, from force of habit more than any actual desire to annoy Vagabond further, and then winced at the stumble and accompanying outcry. It seemed amplified in the Cathedral's massive halls, and the stitchpunk doctor glanced around, pupils constricted sharply in his face.
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Post by Vagabond[101] on Feb 10, 2012 23:39:55 GMT -5
"Man, fucking whatever." Vagabond snapped. He loped forwards until they reached a small, cloth tent decorated with vulgar, poorly-spelled signs. 'KEP THE FUCK OWT' and 'ENTUR AT YER OWN RIKS' were just a few of these crude decorations.
Others included a poorly drawn stick-figure Vagabond with his fist on top of another stick figure's head, which had the words 'BAD GUYS' written under it and a portrait of Vagabond that was actually very well drawn- Obviously not his own doing.
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Edgar [44]
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Post by Edgar [44] on Feb 13, 2012 8:11:01 GMT -5
Edgar's mouth opened and closed a few times as he sought the proper word.
He settled on "...Interesting."
He had to stoop a bit to get into the tent, optics clicking several times to try and adjust to the sudden darkness. As if by nervous habit, he shifted at the pincushion across his shoulders, and after a moment, he tentatively reached out with one hand to try and locate his guide. The dark made him... uneasy, by habit; in his travels to get here it hadn't been uncommon for him to spend the night huddled around whatever he could find to give off light. It was always at home in the dark... it could always find him there, like blood in the water...
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Post by Vagabond[101] on Feb 14, 2012 18:10:33 GMT -5
Edgar's hand touched something metal and curved on both sides. There was a moment of silence. "... Ah, Ed? Why are you touching my face?" Vagabond said irritably. There was a 'SQUEAK!' and Vagabond had turned the small christmas-tree-light into the socket, shedding light on them. Edgar's hand was rested on the inside rims of his optics, right in the middle of his face.
His mouth was twitching dangerously at the corners, but he had picked up on Edgar's subtle signs. He was afraid of the dark. Vagabond didn't get it and thought it was a bit pussy of the tall ragdoll, but hey, he was afraid of what he was afraid of.
That did not, however, give him free leave to touch Vagabond's face.
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Edgar [44]
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Post by Edgar [44] on Feb 16, 2012 22:57:50 GMT -5
He realized his mistake immediately, jerking his hand back as if the shorter doll had bit him. Several apologies fled his voice box, all at once, in an intriguing tangle of jargon that produced a quite extraordinary sound, but nothing in the way of actual meaning.
He steadied himself after a moment, murmured a more coherent "Sorry," and turned his attention to examining his surroundings.
{OOC: leaving the description of the inside of the tent up to you, Jazzy! It is Vagabond's space, after all...}
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Post by Vagabond[101] on Feb 17, 2012 19:52:29 GMT -5
The tent was tall, luckily, for it seemed that Vagabond liked higher ceilings, taller on the inside than it looked on the outside, and much more spacious. It must have been built into a hole on the wall, for where the wall around the entrance was the cloth was stapled and then ballooned out again. There was a back door tent flap and the ceiling held more unlit christmas lights. Then again, it was all very large for Vagabond. Edgar's head still brushed the ceiling at the very highest point of the room. Vagabond walked over to a wire on the wall where it had been cut in half and pulled the two halves together, using a well-used piece of tape above them to keep them together and provide light in dapples of red, yellow, and green.
The inside of the tent was decorated with small, reflective bits of trash or junk, making the room much brighter than it had appeared at first glance. Vagabond threw himself into a small chair made of a bottlecap and a paperclip and reclined, bending the paperclip until it was at a favorable angle. He gestured at a similar chair, the difference being that the bottlecap used to make the seat was a plastic one. "Well don't just stand there. Make yourself at home. There's a bed over uh... Over there." He pointed at a rolled-up piece of newspaper duct-taped to the floor. "And there's the drawing desk if you wanna write or whatever." He gestured at another bottlecap of which the lip had been cut off, and another paperclip had been bent to act as legs. The whole thing was crudely covered in duct tape. In fact, duct tape supported the lights and trophies on the walls, and even made a makeshift lock on the tent flap they had just walked through.
"Only thing is, stay the hell outta my shit." He snapped, pointing at a duct-tape pouch on the far wall that was shut. The pouch was rather large and took up the whole wall. "I know it ain't much but it took me a couple years to gather this shit, so don't break anything." Vagabond crossed his arms and one of his legs over the other. "Uh, but other than that you're pretty much cool to stay here as long as you don't get fou- uh, so long as you don't get discovered. Tomorrow I'll go plead your case to 1."
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Edgar [44]
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Post by Edgar [44] on Feb 27, 2012 21:57:04 GMT -5
He paused a bit, taking stock of his surroundings, and then delicately took the proferred seat, setting down his pincushion as he did. Oddly enough, he spent considerably more time fussing with his hood, making sure it sat forwards enough on his head, than he did on his tools of the trade, though he did draw out one of his pins and check the tip once his cowl was settled.
Edgar's collection of pins were a bit different from the standard- just at the tip, they had been whittled down to the thinnest points that could be afforded; making each considerably more fragile and next-to-useless as a weapon. He slid it back into place among its fellows, smiling pleasantly in a certain awkward manner that made the cheer of his smile look vacant and forced against his rather haunted-looking optics. It was clearly not a face he made often, helped none at all by the way his scar crinkled unpleasantly when he did. His optics met Vagabond's, for a brief moment, and then departed to examine the corners of the tent.
"Erm-" he hesitated, as if unsure whether or not to broach the topic. "Thank you."
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Post by Vagabond[101] on Feb 27, 2012 23:45:32 GMT -5
Vagabond gave a small frown- But this one, rather than angry as the others had been, held the slightest visible trace of concern. "Hey, uh... Are you all right? You look a little... Queasy. Is your hood bothering you or something?"
He picked absently at his arm fabric. "You know skinny-britches, you kinda creep me out sometimes. But, uh," He amended quickly, "Not... Not in a... Not in like, a bad way or some shit like that." He frowned at the floor. "I'm... Not really good with controlling what I say." He said observantly. "Sorry." He thought for a moment. "Listen, I don't want to hurt your tender sensibilities or whatever, but is there something wrong with you?" He asked, obviously trying to be at least somewhat nicer. It was becoming quite clear that Vagabond had only one gear- Asshole.
"I mean, I don't wanna be a jerk or anything but you keep looking over your shoulder and all that, and I noticed that you're afraid of the dark and shit. Is somebody following you?" Vagabond's tone seemed hesitant- He didn't want to scare Edgar off. This was easily the longest any one person had been able to remain in his presence without either getting into a fight or running away (Or in 1's case ordering him away).
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Edgar [44]
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Post by Edgar [44] on Feb 28, 2012 16:30:17 GMT -5
The doctor, for his part, seemed fascinated by the anatomy of his feet for some time, saying nothing as his optics traced the relatively simple constructions of metal and wood. His expression had ventured towards thoughtful, but, failing the true neutrality required, settled upon despondent as a sort of midpoint.
"That is... a matter of trivial concern," he began, quietly, with a sort of half-grimace. To him as well, this was a lengthy conversation compared to the norm- and not on a topic many ventured in the direction of. Most took him for a jolter, or a magnet-user, or simply mad... the latter of which he was beginning to develop a certain following for within the circuit confines of his own head.
"It began... or perhaps it never did begin. But I will say I was aware of it the first time shortly after awakening, and further then it has found me, without fail, in each and every location where I sought sanction from it."
A pause; unsure that he should divulge further, aware that part of him had yearned for someone to ask- and another part that sought to keep it all hidden in shame.
"It seeks me out when I am alone. And from there it watches- sometimes speaks, sometimes advances. I thought perhaps that I was losing my mind; but madmen's dreams do not leave scars."
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Post by Vagabond[101] on Feb 28, 2012 19:11:57 GMT -5
Vagabond listened intently; He sat forward and placed his fingertips on the floor in front of him as he let Edgar muster up the courage to speak. As Edgar began to speak, his mouth twitched slightly; He forced down the urge to ask what 'Trivial' meant. Now was not the time, now that Edgar was speaking his mind.
He sat back. What the slim stitchpunk was saying did indeed sound crazy. But Vagabond was inclined to believe him; one did not acquire mannerisms such as that unless they truly believed they were in real danger. And if he truly believed it, well, that was good enough for Vagabond.
Vagabond was silent for a while; He didn't quite know how to respond. "... What is 'it'?" He asked. Vagabond didn't get scared- But he was pretty close after that.
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Edgar [44]
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Post by Edgar [44] on Feb 29, 2012 23:03:52 GMT -5
"I am not sure. By appearance..." He worked his mouth a bit, as if struggling with some distasteful morsel of information that died, unsaid, in his throat. "...Small. At times, little more than a bad dream- at others..." With one clawed finger, he tapped meaningfully at the scar on his face.
He watched Vagabond, picking up on the other's concern. "It has never brought harm to anyone outside of myself. If I thought you were in danger from my specter, I would not have sought shelter here." His tone, still faint and nervous, had regained some of the strength it had sported when he had spoken against the Traitors earlier... yet he tugged again at his hood when he spoke.
{OOC: Short post, bluh. Sorry}
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Post by Vagabond[101] on Mar 1, 2012 0:24:22 GMT -5
He waved an overlarge hand dismissively. "I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about you." He was quiet for a moment, a frown tugging the corners of his mouth. "... Listen. I don't know how much it's worth... But so long as you're staying here with me-" He jabbed his thumb at himself aggressively "-I'll kick the everliving shit out of anything that comes after you. And I don't give a fuck if this thing is five feet high, has horns and can shit rainbows. I will pound it into the fucking dirt. You have my word."
Truth be told, Vagabond didn't know whether or not he could back up this outrageous claim. But damn if he wasn't going to try. He got to his feet and looked around. He lifted the chair with one hand and began arranging the room into two distinct halves. "You can have that side." He said, indicating the side of the room with the bed. "I'll sleep over here. You're gonna be safe if I have to force 1 to let you stay."
Vagabond didn't normally go out of his way for the people here- Then again, none of them really needed it. Edgar obviously needed it. He needed help. And Vagabond was gonna help him, one way or another. He was quiet for a moment. "All right Skinny Britches, enough emotional shit. Get some sleep, I'll haggle with 1 tomorrow morning."
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