09: Video/Spam: One day at a time, I suppose.
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[A little while into the port, a face that's distantly familiar to very few and new to most pops up on the network, broadcasting from the Livery Stables. He's dark-skinned and dressed in black, but there are a few glimmers about him that stand out in the dim shadows of the stalls: jewelry in his ears and around his neck, the dangerous gleam of his eyes -- and maybe most importantly, the huge poker that he appears to have picked up for a weapon.
Along with the scar that nearly splits his face down the center, there are a few cuts visible on him, but he doesn't seem bothered by these: just a little tense and wary.]
Can't say I much like the look of this here port. Considering the last time, I'm inclined to think that ghosts mean badness. [He gestures with the poker towards the ghostly stablehands.]
Don't get me wrong -- Omar's not turning tail now any more than ever. I'm just saying, though: anyone gets a breath of fresh air, I'd thank y'all to let me know.
[He pauses, then adds, reluctantly:] Anyone else having a problem with they phone? Been trying to get on a private channel for a minute, but I can't get nothing through.
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[Omar can be found just about anywhere in the tower during the port, mostly sticking closer to the shadows. He continues to carry the poker until he manages to upgrade to a sword; he'll also be quietly collecting any trinkets that catch his eye or any actual food he comes across. Towards the end of the port, he'll get bored and start helping people through the chess game just to entertain himself... or maybe hindering them just for the fun of it, if he dislikes them enough.]
[A little while into the port, a face that's distantly familiar to very few and new to most pops up on the network, broadcasting from the Livery Stables. He's dark-skinned and dressed in black, but there are a few glimmers about him that stand out in the dim shadows of the stalls: jewelry in his ears and around his neck, the dangerous gleam of his eyes -- and maybe most importantly, the huge poker that he appears to have picked up for a weapon.
Along with the scar that nearly splits his face down the center, there are a few cuts visible on him, but he doesn't seem bothered by these: just a little tense and wary.]
Can't say I much like the look of this here port. Considering the last time, I'm inclined to think that ghosts mean badness. [He gestures with the poker towards the ghostly stablehands.]
Don't get me wrong -- Omar's not turning tail now any more than ever. I'm just saying, though: anyone gets a breath of fresh air, I'd thank y'all to let me know.
[He pauses, then adds, reluctantly:] Anyone else having a problem with they phone? Been trying to get on a private channel for a minute, but I can't get nothing through.
[Spam]
[Omar can be found just about anywhere in the tower during the port, mostly sticking closer to the shadows. He continues to carry the poker until he manages to upgrade to a sword; he'll also be quietly collecting any trinkets that catch his eye or any actual food he comes across. Towards the end of the port, he'll get bored and start helping people through the chess game just to entertain himself... or maybe hindering them just for the fun of it, if he dislikes them enough.]
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Good question.
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Holy fuck I don't even know anymore.
Hey, asshole! Stop being such a fucking anomaly!
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It's being thought about at all that's the important thing.]
I can live with being an anomaly. Always have done, anyhow.
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You think maybe I'm missing out on part of this conversation, warden?
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You need any 'elp?
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Chalky? Chalky White?
[Only the guy doesn't talk quite like Chalky, and he's pretty sure Chalky never wore clothes like that. Still, it's so uncanny he can't help but think it is, for a second. At least he'd made his peace with Chalky before he died, otherwise he'd be a lot more nervous about this.]
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Sorry, I guess I figured you for the wrong guy.
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I'd guess so. That don't sound like a name that'd suit me very much.
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[spam] cw: casual/accidental racism (likely only in brackets)
Except she isn't alone, because she can see a guy lurking down at the other end of the hall-- a stranger, not someone she recognizes even from the network. She's instantly on edge-- and honestly, the fact that he's a big black man with a weapon doesn't help matters. Her contact with other races has historically been limited at best, and her exposure to racist attitudes has been much, much higher. Still, she's spent two months on a transdimensional prison ship filled to the brim with people who are wildly different from her, and experiences like that tend to broaden the mind.
So she approaches, albeit slowly and carefully. Maybe he's from the Barge. And even if he's not, maybe he can explain what's going on.]
Uh-- hey? Hey. We in a breach right now?
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If we was, you wouldn't know it.
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[He has a point; she remembers the Barge, and before she hadn't.]
I just forget what this kind's called, that's all.
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[He uses the poker to gesture to the tower at large.]
Here we be.
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[spam] cw: gore/violence
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[video] although it's also safe to assume he's probably lurking nearby
[Granted, Rocket doesn't, ghostly or otherwise, which would be why he's currently perched on a beam and safely out of reach, but then he's also a raccoon, or at least appears to be one. Not like they usually get along, although they're better than dogs.]
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[He's squinting at the screen as he says it, and then -- because he's pretty sure he hears the voice very nearby -- looks around and up.]
Do you usually look like that, or is there a whole other level of strangeness going on here?
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Nah, this is me. Thank the universe; I did the humie thing last time. Flarking ridiculous.
If they know we're here they don't care. Which works out about the same in my book.
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[Ben is pretty annoyed about this, frustrated with the complete lack of logic and how out of step he feels in it.
There's also the fact that he's not really being snidely sarcastic despite the actual words; he is not, however, expecting that this is real. This place is full of ghosts.]
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Get comfortable without me around, soldier boy?
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Are you real?
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[She's torn at the moment between being seriously pissed off and being too scared to be angry. She'd thought ports were supposed to be a chance to get away from the weirdness of the barge. That assumption, along with so many others, is apparently wrong.]
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[Personal how, he's not saying -- not if the only person who would know isn't even on the Barge anymore -- but it was bad enough that a muscle in his jaw twitches with tension.]
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Is there any way to avoid getting personal with them, other than running away? [She can do running away but thus far it seems like running away is the same as running into something equally scary.]
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