( 12 ) anon text ♧ so glad we've almost made it so sad they had to fade

[became]

( ooc | same rules as the first go-round; this takes place at O'DARK THIRTY after everything goes down icly on the 12th. i'll do the same i did last time, spread out the comments so it's not 'be here now or suck it', however all the bulletins will go up icly in a cluster.

neal isn't watching the post and in fact has no idea he made it, due to the anon function no ic tracing can be done; but it's not like he didn't do this already, so the people who know his work don't need to icly beat around the bush to spare MYSTERY etc.

other than that, have fun and remember: smiley is our friend.

...right? )

Comments

action;

[certainproclivity]

[As soon as the message goes live, Sark's en route to Neal's room before the second message is even posted. His tattoo still works on his door, which is quite the blessing- he'd hate to have to put up a ton of firewalls just to send Neal a congratulatory message- and he slinks in.]

Someone's gaining quite the cult following for something they never intended to respond to, not unlike certain other individuals I could name.

action; oh baby you know just how i like it

[became]

[ for his part, neal's huddled over his sketch pad, drawing furiously and then ripping the page out and crumpling it in a fist and then throwing it at the wall and standing in one fast, jerky movement.

he's back to looking sharp instead of tired and gaunt, feral around the edges; neal moves gracefully, but that's not present now. grace, maybe, but not the same gentle elegance. ]

It's wrong. They're wrong. [ there are discarded sheets of paper on the floor; a theme isn't hard to spot, with a quick look over them all.

he repeats himself, low and vicious. ] They're wrong.

action; let's get it ooooon~

[certainproclivity]

[That explains the self-imposed exile. It's for the best that Sark is Sark. A true friend might offer a shoulder to lean on or take the sketchpad away or demand Neal speak sense. Sark just picks up one of the discarded pieces of paper and walks to the nearest place to sit.]

You're still expecting them to pay attention to the details. [He frowns a bit and picks up another sheet. Same theme.] Much less use what's been gifted to them.

[He's not a huge fan of Greek myths, but he knows one thing- Perseus never would have been able to say Medusa without the help of the gods.]

action; unhealthy shit aw yis

[became]

[ cold eyes track sark's progress, neal's head tilted slightly to the right; he could almost be a statue, his breathing is so shallow for a moment. ]

Beware the bandersnatch.

[ it's not his normal version of coy, but a warped version thereof. ]

action;

[certainproclivity]

[Sark doesn't even flinch.] Luckily I'm not a banker.

[There's a moral to that story, however.] Seek and ye shall find precisely what you're not looking for. They'll learn. The real question is whether or not you want them to.

[became]

We don't pay with money up here, do we?

[ neal swallows hard, blinking a few times and then slowing, again, back down to the strange stillness. ]

Seeking won't be a problem forever.

[certainproclivity]

[Sark tilts his chin up, suddenly understanding, his expression perceptibly grim.] Right.

[One word, but carrying a word of meaning. Sark doesn't stake his life on anything. His reputation, his wealth, but never his life. As it turns out, he has likely found himself inside a game where his life is the only thing he has worth bartering.]

If you want to convey a message to a population, you start by making them fear you. Once they're afraid, you destroy their hope, and once you've done that, they're completely and utterly at your mercy. We're being shepherded.

[became]

Onward, Christian soldiers.

[ rocking back on his heels a little, neal licks his lips then taps the side of his nose with his forefinger; neal's gesture through and through but somehow off, wrong. ]

You're wrong, too.

[certainproclivity]

Am I.

[He sounds moderately disappointed.]

I suppose I should rely more on the looking glass than terrorism tactics.

[became]

[ huffing out a quiet breath, neal just smiles.

(he never said what sark was wrong about, after all.) ]

A healthy balance would be recommended.

[ and now, off-handedly. ]

War's coming.

[certainproclivity]

I'd say it was already here, but you know better than I do. [Not something Sark admits, even sarcastically, easily.]

[became]

You can't have a war when you don't know the players, yet. [ so that's awesome. ] There are more things in heaven and hell than in their philosophy.

[certainproclivity]

[That is utterly terrifying. Sark curls his lips back in a sort of half-smirk, half-snarl.]

I never cared for being a pawn in someone else's game.

[became]

Get used to it.

[ HAH

HAH

HAH

we're all going to die ]

[certainproclivity]

I prefer to know who's holding my leash before I do that.

[He needs this bit of control- he's paranoid enough as it is. At least flippancy costs him nothing.]

[became]

Seek and ye shall find.

[ and now, off-handedly. ]

Be careful what you wish for-- you should go.

[certainproclivity]

[Sark stands with almost no hesitation. He's gotten all he's likely to get and he knows when to stop. It's all of a piece, really. Torture or conversation- eventually, you have to stop it or the cooperation ceases.]

If you think of anything else I should know, you know where to find me.

LMAO ILU CHRIS

[became]

Mmmmm.

[ neal turns his back on sark carelessly, already crouching to grab another sketchbook. ]