inhumandog | Entries tagged with griping for the sake of griping

How cruel it is, this month. It's as if the cold has taken the very breath from our bodies, laying it out for everyone to witness. I watched you, oh yes. You scurried around like so many ants, confused and wary, but still so very trusting. Like every flood before this. Like every breach. Every port. You slide into the trusting hands of the Admiral, who gives not a shit for you.

Oh, some of you might keep that displaced loyalty. But what does it serve? What is the purpose of it?

What do you get out of it? [His voice rises in volume at that question, but then he goes back to a volume barely above a whisper.] A few more months of hiding away? That's what I have. A few months to stay here in an attempt to learn what it is I might do with my life. What's after the barge? You go home, try to be normal, but you have seen so much. You have learned so much. Those people, those people at home, they won't be the same. You will see them as a solider back from war does. With skeptical eyes and a wary glance. Because what if they aren't real? You have had your perception twisted so much now. What if it is just a trick of the Admiral?

Don't fool yourselves into thinking you will know. How many times have you "known" reality here, only to learn later that you were under the effects of...something?

That's why I never went home. For how can I trust what is true and what is a lie?

( Private to Admiral Santa )

[He is...strangely normal. At least in tone. The only indication that something is off is a slight slurring of his words.]

This cannot be hell. I came to that conclusion a long, long time ago. And yet, [A humorless chuckle] it seems only to test and taunt you. Dear, dear inmates, you know not what you have here. I had...my second chance. Do...you squander yours?

I...fuck. [He descends into drunken Italian before cutting out.]

[Warden Filter]

Someone take Crane for a while.

[OOC: Iago's been chilling in the pub almost all night and day today. Also, anyone who would notice, there was a lot of loud noise and things being thrown yesterday. Anyone near his room - level 7, room 8- might have heard it.]

[Private to Rex]

Can you meet me in my room? I need to talk to you there.

[And PUBLIC. Posted later, after talking to Rex.]

What happens in the span of two years? Or five? What can a man accomplish with nothing but time? When you can see nothing but eternity stretching out in front of you, do you cling to the past or move forward? Do you dig in your heels and resist the pulling of the tides towards that inevitable end? Perhaps that's what this place is. A river with a current constantly at your feet, dragging you to a destination you cannot predict.

I was once afraid of that destination. It was a terrible place of my nightmares. A place where I would no longer be myself. A place where my life meant absolutely nothing.

That's not exactly true.

Two years. Twenty four days. That's how long it took to get here.

[His tone changes to something lighter. More playful.] And you thought I never would. Graduate, that is.

Maybe we'll see each other again.

[OOC: OH YEAH! Sometime after this post, he's going to leave and be off barge. His room will return to barge normal during that time. BUT HE WILL RETURN. I'll throw up an OOC post about it when he does. I have no willpower, so it probably won't be long.]

[Marvel, Barge, at the shirtless wonder that is Iago, complete with the very rarely seen curls around his head. He doesn't look happy, though that's not really unusual for him. His wardrobe is empty, which he shows to the population. And then he holds up a shirt. It's not a shirt that Iago would ever wear in his lifetime. It's a t-shirt with the periodic table on it. He steps back enough to show the whole thing, plus the tight black GOTH PANTS that he's squeezed into. Guess whose clothes they are, Barge. GUESS.]

This does not belong to me. [He drops it to the floor. He would spit on it, but he's in his room and doesn't want to spit there. Ew.] The person it belongs to is nothing more than indulging in petty pranks. Petty and childish pranks. Taking my clothes, replacing them with these? Taking everything that I use for my hair!

[Yeah, Iago's just outed himself here as a bit vain but THERE ARE MORE IMPORTANT MATTERS AT HAND.]

Rex. Where are my clothes? If you have done anything to them, I swear I will find someone to turn you into a woman again.

And for the record, you do look like you've not seen a comb in years. I'm sure your snakes could find themselves a nice nest in there.

One hundred posts and I have been here for one year and ten months, I think. Time gets a little difficult to think about when you take a three year break to be a general in a wasteland.

Hm. No matter.

Have you ever talked to a man in a mirror who demanded blood? Or been one of only a handful of sane people on a ship that was full of wardens who insisted on turning their inmates evil? Have you ever had to shoot your own warden because another inmate had injured him beyond all repair? Maybe you've returned from a long time at home, after being tortured, only to find that your betrayer is still aboard the Barge. So you kill him. [A gasp.]

No. I don't think you have. Because if you had, you would probably realize that this...what's happened here in the past month, two months, however long that you've been here...is going to keep happening. And it will probably get worse.

No, this isn't a story meant to inspire pity, as I know there are some with better stories of their barge life. I don't care about them and I'm sure no one else does. In fact, I'm also quite sure that no one really cares about what I just said.

You know why I know that? [Chuckle.] Because nothing on this damn ship can surprise me anymore.

So yes, tell me that I am boring, or that you don't care what I say. Or do something surprising, get some perspective, and just shut up while you wait for the next port or flood.

That's when things are really interesting, after all.

I despise these types of floods because I'm usually affected by them. And they're always horribly inconvenient to my daily life.

Yet...now that I'm not affected...it's no different. It's a horrible inconvenience to my life and I don't have the benefit of losing the ability to actually be a part of this nonsense. And my parents weren't terrible people. Thank you for the waste of my time, Admiral.

Rex, have you returned to normal?

[Private to the Marquis]

I want to talk to you.

[Inmate Filter]

[Iago’s sitting in his room, playing Rex’s DS at his desk. IT WAS A GIFT, OKAY? He talks in spurts, in between difficult parts of the level.]

Here’s a story, my dear, dear friends. There...once was a boy who went to his teacher...and asked him if it was good to talk. The teacher...replied that frogs and toads will...talk all day but...no one really listens to them. [He sighs here as Mario dies and he’s out of lives.] But he said also that the rooster crows once a day and everyone pays attention.

So why do we continue to pay attention to those who talk and complain all the time? [HYPOCRISY MUCH?! He told his story, so he goes back to his game.] Stop being so boring. And predictable. Take your unnecessary anger out elsewhere.

[Private to Prefect]

Tell me about your world. The one you came from before you were here.

[Iago's sitting at his desk, lounging back, looking particularly pleased with himself. His hands are out of sight, off to the side, playing with something. It's the watch he once took from Sylar, but he's very careful to keep it off screen.]

I think it was the year before last that we actually had the Games for Christmastime. Or, at least what would approximate to Christmas. I could never really get the times right. [Chuckle. He's hoping there's still some trauma out there to exploit...]

That seems like far more enjoyment than what we have here. These decorations would make any person in Venice cringe in embarrassment. [Guess who has been forced to decorate more than once...] And not a Nativity scene in sight. Shame. I suppose it makes sense if we are being absolutely secular.

How dull.

( Spam for Claire )

Trauma. Angst. Sadness. Guilt. Acceptance.

Trauma. Angst. Sadness. Guilt. Acceptance.

Trauma. Angst. Sadness. Guilt. Acceptance.

Doesn't it get boring? Don't you find yourselves wanting more than just that pattern? It's an endless repeat and, while it's amusing to watch you all fall into that swing, it's also quite tiring to expect that it will ever change.

And yet, I'd rather watch it all here than be anywhere else.

[Note slipped under Prefect's door]

You weren't there, were you?

[Private to Rex- added later]

An interesting discussion we had, I must admit. Was it true?

Looking back, I suppose it was encouraging that I was not in for the events of this past...April Fool's Day? A day based on tricking other people and laughing at their expense? What nonsense. These holidays you have, or, these holiday most of you have, are pointless.

I was told about Thanksgiving. A day of gluttony? But the very word is that of virtue. Giving thanks. And then Valentine's day. Named after a Saint Valentine, I have heard. Well, I am quite sure that a saint would not have wanted to be exposed to that terrible town.

So I suppose the question is- what will come next? If the world has been reduced to something a little above Sodom and Gomorrah, what can be worse? And why would you live in such a place?