un: absterge | video, might as well get a show with your wake-up

[downswing]

( The stage, set: pale dawns drowning fair maiden Emilia's boudoir, mid-invasion. The lady, aghast, but bravely holding back (onto?) Wrath — one of three gentlemen drenched in chimney soot for their orgy visit.

RIP: four porcelain bowls shattered on the floor, a wall stabbed with dining cutlery, a decapitated statue, inked parchment (protective, silent) littered on the balcony and ceiling spreads. A table broke its back to sweeten Jiang Cheng's fall. The man himself lies sprawled or scratching (unclear). Chimney bricks are still coughing down into the fireplace.

In the midst of the chaos, a dishevelled Lan Wangji — perched precipitously on the back of a chair — calls for silence. A heartbeat later, he sets the communicator closer to the balcony, so that everyone who neglected to turn off their device overnight can bask in the shouting and screaming of anti-Macaluso protesters outside.

Enjoy a minute of that. Violence is good for the ears. )

The lady's quarters — ( ...quite. ) ...lack vantage. What stokes their anger?

( And then, an awkward pause later: )

Morning's greetings.

( ooc: backdated to the first day of protests. Enjoy your 5:10am wake-up call, in between the ruckus of Jiang Cheng, Lan Wangji and Wrath slipping down the wrong chimney into Emilia's quarters, and Macaludo's protesters raising a storm. Just. Enjoy that. )

Comments

[somebadnews]

[ That one word perks him up, and he realizes he wasn't awake enough when he started talking. ]

It's a long story. ...The point is that I was supposed to take them home, and instead we got stranded here. That's how I knew I'd find them.

[downswing]

Five. ( Confusion. Capitulation. ) We each surfaced at different turns.

[somebadnews]

It's not the first time. At least we got closer than before.

[downswing]

And those who did not originate beside you?

[somebadnews]

I’m not responsible for anyone outside of my family. I’ve heard mixed accounts of how the rest of you managed.

[downswing]

We emerged alone. Claim no fault.

[somebadnews]

Someone has to clean up this mess.

[downswing]

Your shoulders come too frail to bear the world whole.


( Wei Ying's, cut to that same scale of limitations. )

[somebadnews]

[ Now he's starting to sound like his family. Which is strange, if he thinks about it. ]

I've got no choice. [ It's always him. ] Lucky for you, I've got a few years left in me. I'll get it right eventually.

[downswing]

And after?

[somebadnews]

[ After he fixes everything? ]

I don't know. I've never gotten that far.

[downswing]

...consider.

[somebadnews]

[ He's a 58-year old man living in a child's body outside of time, he doesn't fit anywhere. He'll be satisfied to watch his siblings live out the rest of their lives in a world that's not constantly ending.

But this is getting too personal, and he's not sure how they got here. ]

What makes you care, all of a sudden?

[downswing]

( He knows the way of it, a language of misplaced gains. Selflessness goes distrusted. )

A man without cause drifts unfettered. Undependable.

[somebadnews]

You'll have to thank my sisters. [ And brothers. Most of them probably don't even know.

After a moment, he adds: ]

I wouldn't go looking for anything else we have in common.

[downswing]

We share nothing.

[somebadnews]

I’m glad we’re in agreement.