Transcriptionist's Notes: Nope, I'm not filling in the blank regarding that thought... *Evil grin*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#9 Thu, Sep 11, 11:54PM
PST
~~Trying to keep his distance...he'd been -not- hovering all day, and
thought that by now, the repressed energy he'd built up ought to be a
tangible force between the two of them. His foot dangled from the
chair, flicking nervously back and forth as he tried not to stare. It
was hard though...he wasn't exactly sure, what was safe to say, to
hint, to joke over...~~
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#15 Fri, Sep 12, 0:04AM PST
*He was watching him again. Or trying _not_ to, Beej thought...
They'd been like this ever since they'd woken up, and it was
beginning to tell on him. Were they back to where they'd been, six,
Gods, only _SIX_ weeks ago? Were they going to end up trading off
sleeping in the bed? He didn't think so, but then... That foot
catches his attention and he sighs, looking up to Neets' face.*
What's the matter?
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#17 Fri, Sep 12, 0:09AM
PST
~~Looking up, forced by his own will, he shrugs a little, thin
shoulders lifting then dropping an inch lower as he slumps a bit.~~
Nuth'n...jus' think'n s'all. ~~He's careful to keep his voice light,
happy, hiding his less than settled thoughts behind a shrubbery of
cheeriness.~~
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#19 Fri, Sep 12, 0:15AM PST
*He watches his lover carefully, trying to quiet his own thoughts and
try to pick up on Neets'.* Thinking about what...? *Trying not to
sound overly worried, remembering a long-ago promise not to mother
Neetles* You _sure_ it's nothing? *He picks up the cheeriness, but
figures it's just a front... He can't decide whether he should get up
and sit near him or not, so just stays, a knot of anxiety growing in
his chest.*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#21 Fri, Sep 12, 0:20AM
PST
~~Looking out at the trader from troubled amber eyes, he shrugs.*
Noth'n...jus'...y'know th't guy't was 'ere w'en y'got back? 'E t'inks
'e kin 'elp figger out't map. ~~Spoken around an icy lump in his
throat, no, his stomach...not -precisely- what he was thinking about,
but one of the things at least.~~
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#23 Fri, Sep 12, 0:28AM PST
*He frowns slightly, vaugely recalling the visitor* Oh, I meant to
ask you about that... *No suspiscion, jealousy or anger in or behind
the words* He thinks he can figure it out? That's... That'd be...
Good, I guess... *He bites his lip, trying to keep from asking,
'Yeah, but what _else_ is wrong?' He does move, though, drawing the
other chair up close to his beloved's and leaning against him* ((Does
-too- contain data! *Snort*))
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#26 Fri, Sep 12, 0:40AM
PST
Carr't tol'me 'bout 'im. 'E...~~Trailing off, recalling the real
-voice- in his head, as opposed to his lover's thought/emotions.~~
'E's gonna poke 'round in m'ead. ~~Oh...oh...why did his own body
have to do things like that, to give over his worries in favor of
pressing into a huddle of confusion with the trader? His mind
softens, warms, becomes a layer of cottony soft down to cushion away
any ill thoughts.~~
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#28 Fri, Sep 12, 0:45AM
PST
((Ooooo....I LOVE that last line from 3c! *Is going to scan in her
signed cover art for Magic's Price first thing.* *giggles* *has done
things like that before.* *Dislikes the smell of burning insect.*
*laugh* *Can just picture one of those perfume girls wandering around
sprtizing people with 'Allusions of Beej' And next in the line
'Psychosis of Neets'.))
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#29 Fri, Sep 12, 0:52AM PST
((*Frown* Hadda reconect...*Giggles at George Michael's 'I Want Your
Sex'*)) *A nod* She did? He must be all right, then, if she knows
him... *That next phrase makes him frown more deeply, inspiring a
burst of -worry|safe?/Headgames|notgood-* Oh... He said he was coming
back, didn't he? *He slips an arm around those thin shoulders, trying
to lighten up as well, beginning to feel a little fuzzy as well*
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie : . . . . msg#30 Fri, Sep 12, 0:53AM
PST
*He fades into the room, sitting atop a sturdy wooden crate... His
pose is reminicent of Rodin's 'The Thinker', and his floppy hat is
missing, revealing dull brown hair. His glasses are back in place,
but he looks more relaxed, or something...* Hello, again.
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#33 Fri, Sep 12, 1:01AM
PST
Yeah...g'ess so, huh? ~~Sidling up to the embrace, he lets the
thoughts cascade over him before answering. -unsure|you'll watch?/not
games|answers- ~~ Yeah....sed 'e'd be back...~~He jumps in his seat
as the Meddler fades in, hand darting towards his unlaced boot before
he even recognizes the fellow.~~ Oh...s'you!
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#34 Fri, Sep 12, 1:04AM
PST
((*grin* Nonono! Leave it!!!!! *Wants to read that scene.* *grin*
Misty! I have a full set of all three of the Vanyel covers, all
signed by her! *Likes 'Inhibitions of Thomas' best.*))
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie : . . . . msg#35 Fri, Sep 12, 1:08AM
PST
*A short nod to the two men, a hint of a smile, correction: a -ghost-
of a smile touching the barest corners of his mouth.* I've
returned... I trust you are well? *To Beej* I'm Murph... You must be
Beej... Neets, excuse me, Neetlemyre's trader... *The slip was just
that, a slip, nicknames having been gleaned from his previous
'visit'.*
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#36 Fri, Sep 12, 1:08AM PST
It seems that way... *He 'listens' to his dearest, nodding slowly as
the arriving Thomas gets most of his suspicious attention.
-love|sure|I'll watch/Uncertain/Answers|good/hope-, tilting his head
in Thomas' direction.* Hello...
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#38 Fri, Sep 12, 1:16AM PST
Murph. *He turns the name over in his mind and draws a blank... He's
never met anyone named 'murph'. Those round sunglasses puzzle and
intrigue him... As does the package. He does refrain from his usual,
'Nice box, it looks like it'd be such-and-such to ship with
so-and-so, I can get you a better deal' routine.*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#39 Fri, Sep 12, 1:18AM
PST
~~He snickers a little at the words 'Neetlemyre's trader'.~~
Good'nuff...y'wanna poke 'round in'ma 'ead, m'g'ess'n?
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#40 Fri, Sep 12, 1:21AM
PST
~~Turning his eyes back to the trader for a moment, he nods. -not
sure|excited|KNOWING- churning through his brain.~~
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie : . . . . msg#43 Fri, Sep 12, 1:25AM
PST
I thought we agreed that I would return to attempt to find out about
your map? *A brow arched above liquescent silver lens, a hand coming
up to pull them from his face* I brought something that needs moving,
as we discussed. ::Ready...?:: *He expands his reach to Beej as well,
slit-pupiled eyes closing as he maintains a Presence in Neets' mind,
Voice soft in Beej's head.* ::He granted his permission, and I shall
do nothing to alter him...::
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#44 Fri, Sep 12, 1:29AM PST
*He smirks a bit as well, tension returning at the thought of someone
wandering through Neets' mind... His eyes widen at those clear, quiet
words that are meant to reassure, flicking a glance between the man
on the crate and the boy tucked up against himself* All right.
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#49 Fri, Sep 12, 1:37AM
PST
Yeah...y'sed, n'I sed...s'cool. ~~He lifts his own hand to his face,
scrubbing at his cheeks before nodding again, yellow eyes flickering
back and forth between the trader and Murph, wondering if he did
right, agreeing to move something like that. ::Go 'ead...:: Obviously
un-used to and untrained for use of his mind in such a way, his
mental 'tone' is faltering, carrying with it lingering emotions and
the few memories that somehow attach themselves to those words,
however unmeant.~~
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6015 Fri, Sep
12, 1:23PM PST
*He sits still, he honestly -could- be the statue he imitates, cool
and unflinching...* ::Just relax... You can talk to Beej, if you
wish.:: *The rough, untrained quality of Neetles' Voice doesn't
surprise him, he was rather surprised to find any Speech capabilities
in the first place. Turning his full attention to the the younger
man's mind, he Looks into his ability and the fuzzy darkness that
used to be a past...*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6098 Fri, Sep
12, 1:27PM PST
~~He squirms a little, watching the two other men with quick glances
back and forth, willing himself calm. Trying to will himself calm,
more accurately as he runs pale fingers nervously over his
jade-misted arms. It doesn't -feel- so bad...not really like much at
all...~~
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6172 Fri, Sep 12,
1:31PM PST
*He finds himself frowning again, this time in thoughtfulness. Neets
had agreed to move something for this 'Murph'? It made sense,
actually, since Murph probably didn't work for free... And moving
things was a very pleasant alternative for any number of things that
Beej could think up. He remains quiet for the moment, relaxing
minutely.*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6246 Fri, Sep
12, 1:35PM PST
~~The little indicators of relaxation from the trader do quite a bit
to soothe him. He'd been worried that making claims about what he
could and couldn't do, involving the business, would get him an
earful of trouble...this didn't seem so bad...~~
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6288 Fri, Sep
12, 1:38PM PST
*Sifting gingerly through recent memories, his face betraying
little... -mush- eliciting a flicker of a smile, -fear|anger- a bit
of a frown, -Cold|Dark Thing- more blankness. There might be a bit of
pressure, now, like fingers pressing gently against a
windowscreen...*
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6342 Fri, Sep 12,
1:41PM PST
((*Laugh* Don't I know it! *Is -happy- with her day so far*)) *He
shrugs slightly at himself, uncertain if he should say or -send-
anything... One lazy finger drifts along the lines on his beloved's
near arm, an arbitrary motion meant to comfort or reassure him...*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6427 Fri, Sep
12, 1:46PM PST
~~His own face, having fallen long since from its stony indifference,
shows a jot of worry here and there, mayhaps a little discomfort, or
just...dislike, for letting someone other than his lover sift through
his feelings. He leans a little on the trader, without thinking, the
memories Thomas sorts through passing behind his eyes. Like a
fleeting annoyance, a moth over a candleflame, Anger is there and
gone, then Cold, and lingering for a moment beyond them, the Dark
Thing...and then things come to a pause, as the Meddler runs out of
things Neets -knows-. His -eagerness- seeping through, he seems to
perch on the edge of a cliff, not -quite- making the
plunge...yet...~~ ((How do we want to do this? You know as much about
Neets past as I do...do YOU want to type out what Thomas finds? I'm
not sure just what he'd get...))
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6497 Fri, Sep
12, 1:50PM PST
~~He looks up, ancient eyes peeking from a too-young face, and smiles
a little, quickly.~~ T'anks... ~~Whispered, because even if Murph
said it was alright, he feels the need for silence.~~
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6744 Fri, Sep
12, 2:07PM PST
*He'd see the faint revulsion over his Presence, if his eyes were
open. He'd also answer it, if he weren't so wrapped up in meshing his
mind with Neetles'... his breathing deepens, slowing as it gets
harder to Look into the memories... Something had muddied them,
severed the connections that would summon them up, plus time had
gnawed at them...* ::Map....:: *Trance-like, or almost asleep,
somehow retaining that upright attitude* ::Kiamath.:: ::Woman-
NotRuth::
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6748 Fri, Sep 12,
2:07PM PST
*Looking down, the thought that his young man had seen and survived
things he wouldn't want to even -dream- about striking him again, a
weary little smile turning up his mouth.... The hand moves from his
arm to his face, a nod in answer to the quiet word, even if it wasn't
directed at himself*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6812 Fri, Sep
12, 2:12PM PST
~~The Voice jars him, not hurting but not pleasant either as it, he,
whatever, tries to claw through the shroud in his mind. The
map...nothing summoned up...just...pain? He shivers, tracing his
fingers over the thick scars again, wondering what or who Kiamath is.
A woman? Maybe...oh...another of those maddening flashes...lipstick.
he remembered bright, deep red...hers, for certain and sure. But
more...there must be MORE there...~~
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6847 Fri, Sep
12, 2:14PM PST
~~Nothing of desire in his movements, or at least, the more sensual
side of desire, he lets one alabaster cheek rest on the hand tracing
it, pinning it between that and his bony shoulder as he wends
silently down the path to his past.~~
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6919 Fri, Sep
12, 2:19PM PST
*His face pinched now; paler if it's possible, the pressure
increasing gradually* ::MapKiamath-Important:: ::Maroon
lipstick-Woman Not|Ruth:: *The connection, where was it? Was there
one between the map and the woman (who isn't Ruth, as one might
notice) who wore the bright lipstick? ::Neets|cute-lipstick:: *That
was odd, where had that come from? Now there was something else, a
face or two teasing him, hovering just -there-* ::Men... Best laid
plans of Mice and Men:: *Which was stupid book, but none of the
ghosts he was sneaking up on were particularly literature-oriented...
A horror novel, if ever they were. ::Blood- Kiamath|Blood::
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#6997 Fri, Sep 12,
2:25PM PST
*He arches a brow at the trapping of his hand, but says nothing, nor
does he try to free it. He leans against the jade-haired lad, lending
his shoulder as physical proof of his promises...* ((*Thinks their
posts are getting back 'on'* *Is proud of Thomas' posts*))
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7081 Fri, Sep
12, 2:30PM PST
~~Luana...yes! Luanaluanaluana! Mother? No...lipstick...skirts...a
cot that he could remember now, with a scratchy blanket... Pain, now
an echo, a reverberation of nerves driven dead by such abrupt
agony...what WAS it?! A knife blade...Jor and...Ti!...cutting,
dripping blood. The map? The map...always the map...terror of
skinning his knees after it was there, of making a single indelible
scratch on his own skin...~~
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7156 Fri, Sep
12, 2:35PM PST
~~A whisper, a whimper, a mewling of sound from a pale throat, and
malachite hair falling with a sudden shake of his head. Gods...did he
want to know this? Why...Them...how could anyone... Thoughts fly past
at the speed of light, too quickly to fathom, to comprehend,
richocheting off others and sending a cascade of his past crashing
down around him.~~ ((*nod* I think so...*grins*))
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7259 Fri, Sep
12, 2:42PM PST
*Thomas slumps slightly, though there's no danger of his falling to
the floor, yet.* ::Luana- NotRuth|Mother:: *A swirl of true memory
accompanying(sp?) those words, of a woman who was truly 'Mother', her
clothes and a bit of her room, but not much beyond that.*
::Men|evil|hurt- Jor, Ti, Maps|pain:: *A flinch at this, a line of
ghost-pain sliding up the back of a leg, across a shoulderblade, down
an arm... He refuses to let go of his quest, a stern voice in the
back of his mind reminding him it was just an illusion.*
::Impress...:: *His head bowing now, perservering though it's harder
than before... If there was room for it, he'd wonder if (if it
happened) putting a hole in that screen would be a good idea.*
::Impress|Map|Kiamath- Get rid of it.:: *A man, unknown to all but
two or three, blood seeping down his shirtfront, grimly clinging to
-something-* ::Mine!::
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7302 Fri, Sep 12,
2:46PM PST
*Holding his beloved closer at the little cry, a blip of -Worry|Love-
touching those spinning thoughts, all he can do at the moment. He
considers humming, but nothing soothing comes to mind, and then
there's the question of silence...*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7391 Fri, Sep
12, 2:53PM PST
~~And now voices clamor, all Neets, but not any one of them
Him...pushing these things away, pulling them closer, guarding,
defending against... Mind ripped in a million directions at once by
each distinct entity, yet he remains silent outwardly as his eyes
close, too innundated with inner pictures to see anything in the room
anyway. No idea who the man is...pain receeding for now...Luana,
rocking, singing... It -still- doesn't hurt, this dizzying rush of
sickening recollection, but he feels a very physical wave of
nausea...or Cold does, or Anger...he can't tell...they all jockey for
position as He, Neets, watches from the sidelines...~~
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7438 Fri, Sep
12, 2:57PM PST
~~Now, those arms around him are the only things holding him up, the
link seemingly a rope, something to cling to as His, not Anyone
else's...he doesn't realize what the coppery taste in his mouth is,
the warm flow of blood seeping from his tongue as his barracuda-esque
teeth close on it.~~
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7487 Fri, Sep
12, 3:00PM PST
*Too far, he'd pushed too hard, the turmoil threatening to drown
Neetles and tugging at Him as well. ::Damn...:: Thomas stops cold,
backing up a little and beginning to reshuffle the voices, the ideas
and images, reintegrating them in a slow layering of event, feeling
and time... Besides, he'd had enough of people throwing up for one
week. ::Sorry.:: Waiting as the young man's mind quiets, choosing one
element to follow, and only proceeding once Cold and Anger have
subsided... He approves of the strength of the barriers, wondering
quietly to himself if the youth's abilities could be developed...*
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7606 Fri, Sep 12,
3:10PM PST
((*LIKES the last couple of IC posts from Neets*)) *Beej knows
nothing beyond the fact that _something_ is Not Quite Right in that
nile-tressed head, and that what he -feels- is incredibly vital at
the moment... So, dismissing Thomas' presence in the room, he pulls
Neets into his lap and rocks him slowly, whispering softly in Beribe,
-Here|love|Staying- on his mind...*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7619 Fri, Sep
12, 3:11PM PST
~~He doesn't...can't find...too much. One by one, synapses close,
hearing going, sight already lost, taste without matter. No faint
odor of spice and fruit...nothing. Nothing sinking in from the world
around him at all, as he takes a stance to face the world within. Not
alone. The aura of 'Beej' hovering in the back, the alien feeling of
the Meddler close beside, then fading... Barriers, the stray thought
a wise one...he finds Them, and begins shuffling Them off to their
little boxes, first Anger, dangerous and then Cold, protesting feebly
that ice didn't hurt so much. The Dark Thing, hovering, laughing it's
revolting, Jor-like giggle as he boxed it off good and tight. Memory
too? Fading...a few lingering, but not all...WHY? HIS dammit, his
mind, his past...~~
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7700 Fri, Sep
12, 3:18PM PST
~~Unsure if he's projecting or not as he goes about his housekeeping,
he spares a moment of worry, knowing the trader has never seen him
like this before. He can't dwell on that too long though, wrestling
the bits of himself back to order, and then shutting down
completely...a mental reboot of sorts, and he comes 'round shaking,
shivering like someone wearing shorts in -30 weather, hearing the
whispers before he opens his eyes. -shame|tired|confusion-~~
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7761 Fri, Sep 12,
3:25PM PST
*-It's all right|Here|Safe-, brushing at that dark green hair, eyes
closed as well.... The shivering worrying him some, his entire being
centered on Neets and 'all right'...And getting the two to meet.*
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7794 Fri, Sep
12, 3:28PM PST
*Target selected: The man clinging to whatever-it-was... More
approval as the boy helps to seal away the interfering feelings,
extending to the -feelings- from the trader, all the help they can
get appreciated.* ::Mine... Map|Impress|Dying:: *Nothing new there.
Following him as he moves out of sight and is lost in a throng of
people is less than informative, so he backs up and tries to go
further back, to when the man had...* ::No good now...::
::Original!:: ::Traitor, death to the traitor!:: ::Trusted you...::
*The flash of a blade and a short cry, The Man falling back and
tearing... A sheet of paper. Hmm.* ::Murder... Map|murder|Impress::
*He grows silent again, Listening to Neetles, trying to decide on the
next course of action.*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7811 Fri, Sep
12, 3:29PM PST
~~Huddled, feeling like a foolish child, he can't, -won't-, glance at
Thomas. His fingers move to curl in the trader's shirt, pulling
handfuls of it forward, stretching the fabric to cover his face.
-sick|hurts|doesn't hurt/maybe safe- Clinging, he forgets his earlier
worries of holding too tight.~~
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#7860 Fri, Sep
12, 3:35PM PST
~~Approval? What was this? Sifting through things he didn't think he
knew, the mental intrusions seem less...abrupt now. Perhaps because
the focus isn't -him-, but the man...dying? Dead. He could see every
bit of it clearly as a holo vid. ::Anything you can use?:: He doesn't
recognize the lack of an accent in his mind, or the warbling of his
Voice...amazed he could form the words, yet still unwilling to look
up.~~
*He continues his quiet murmuring, nodding ineffectively at the -good- from Murph, curling towards the troubled young man in his arms. He could care less about the
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#8066 Fri, Sep
12, 3:49PM PST
*That surprised him, the clear-if-tenuous Voice, into opening his
eyes. He doesn't register much of his surroundings and closes them
again.* ::Maybe. Let me see...:: *He slips down through the layers
again, this time as a stone through silt-laden water, not Looking at
anything in particular... A shred of conversation, nothing truly
vital... Or was it?* ::...the summer. We'll have to wait, of course.
He's much too young, at the moment.:: *That was Ruth, and the answer
was somewhat more indistinct, the voice someone else's...* ::Well,
she'll be around for a while. What'll we do in the mean time?:: *And
then nothing further, save a bright orange couch in a gaudy parlor
that seemed to radiate, or represent, safety. Thomas diverts some of
his attention to Speak to Neetles* ::Are you all right...?::
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#8071 Fri, Sep 12,
3:49PM PST
*He continues his quiet murmuring, nodding ineffectively at the
-good- from Murph, curling towards the troubled young man in his
arms. He could care less about the firmness of that grasp, though
he'd be more worried if it faltered.
-Here|sick?|Love/concern/Hurts][doesn't hurt|puzzled-*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#8178 Fri, Sep
12, 3:57PM PST
~~He sighs softly, not really finding/hearing the bit of
conversation, and not about to go delving into his psyche again. And
now, the Voice he had a little control over slips away again,
reducing him to images and feelings as before, and he forces a
muffled whisper past the comforting expanse of the trader's chest.~~
M'okay...inna mann'r'a spe'k'n.
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#8197 Fri, Sep
12, 3:58PM PST
~~A little more sure of himself now, he lets go of the fabric, though
his face remains burrowed against his love. -okay|fine/head
hurts/love-~~
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#8281 Fri, Sep 12, 4:05PM PST
((*Is glad* *Got all IC posts* *Must return thomas to scene... Tosses
out an IC BeejPost for the moment*)) *His hand still smoothing over
face and hair, he sighs softly... -Good/sorry/Love|here|safe?-,
keeping up his mild babble...*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#8365 Fri, Sep
12, 4:09PM PST
~~The shivering continues, now nothing but tautly stretched nerves
easing their own tension. -not important/love|not moving|safe
enough-~~ ((*grin* No problem.))
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#8432 Fri, Sep 12, 4:13PM PST
I'm here... *He doesn't care why he repeats the words, mumbling them
in differing tongues, hoping the shivers aren't heralding something
worse... He glances up to the man on the crate, noting that his
posture is more vertical than before...* ((*Works up Thos.Post*))
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#8497 Fri, Sep
12, 4:18PM PST
~~He doesn't care about the reiteration of the trader's proximity,
glad for it, glad for the familiar voice hovering over his head.~~
A'kno'...m'okay... ((*grin* He's got a lot to say, huh?))
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie : . . . . msg#8613 Fri, Sep 12, 4:26PM
PST
*He surfaces, coming up from the deep murk of Neets' sublimated and
ruined past, trying his best to thread the tatters back together,
leaving as little evidence of his visit as he can. Each path he'd
followed, each word/image/event he'd encountered had to be gently
released and replaced, everything has its place. Thomas' breathing
returns to normal and he straightens, stretching...* ::That's enough
for today...:: *He adds a brushing of -Good
job|thanks/comfort|compassion- as he removes himself completely from
the young man's head, slipping his shades back on...*
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#8633 Fri, Sep 12, 4:27PM PST
All right... If you're sure... *Still speaking quietly,
ever-reflecting -love|here-*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#8801 Fri, Sep
12, 4:37PM PST
((*grins cause Six underground is on.*)) ~~He can't really feel
anything going on now, fair to numbed by the earlier travails.
Surprise registers with the feelings from the mirror-eyed man leaves
his almost sore intellect.~~ T'anks... ~~And then, after another
moment, and a sigh as he lifts a face not yet tear-stained.~~ Fer'
t'day? Y'wanna do mor'? ((Does he remember things now? Some of them
anyway?))
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#8837 Fri, Sep
12, 4:39PM PST
Nev'r sure...~~The tired joke is weak, said in a flat voice as he
finds himself physically drained by the scant activity.~~
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie : . . . . msg#9032 Fri, Sep 12, 4:52PM
PST
Well, if you wish, I can return and try again... *A shrug* Otherwise,
I shall not. *He stands, a bit shaky though he hadn't moved many
muscles.* You're welcome. This...*Kicking the box* Needs to get to
the address here *Touching the top of it* by the end of next week.
*Thomas consults his 'fader, another faint smile touching his mouth*
That was a difficult task. You did surprisingly well... *There's no
condescension in his voice, as toneless as it is.*
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#9034 Fri, Sep 12, 4:53PM PST
Hum... *It might be flat amusement or merely acknowledgement, it's
hard to tell... Beej contemplates the likelyhood of them getting
rested before they had to travel, which reminds him that he'd wanted
to rearrange his schedule... He pushes these boring thoughts aside in
favor of listening to Thomas and his beloved...* ((*Grin* He might...
That's up to you, though.... He might've put a tiny little hole in
that screen after all... Maybe bits and pieces would come back in
dreams?))
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#9109 Fri, Sep
12, 4:57PM PST
Mebbe...dunno. Kin I sen'ya a not'r'summat, f'I wanna git 'old of'ya
'gin? ~~He nods at the instructions.~~ It'll be t'ere. ~~A curious
glance at the Meddler, trying to figure him out and failing.~~ T'anks
a'g'ess...
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#9162 Fri, Sep
12, 5:01PM PST
~~He's just plain tired, and it's evidenced in his slow, careful
movements as he tries to uncurl himself a little more.~~ We gotta
le've, don'we? Soon? ((*nodnod* *grin* More dream sequences!))
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie : . . . . msg#9220 Fri, Sep 12, 5:05PM
PST
*Another of his short nods, one hand delving into a jacket pocket and
removing a card case* Certainly. You can leave a notice at the
address here... *Approaching the two men, handing over a matte black
rectangle... It's blank save a gold star in a circle described by
shiny embossing, though the heat of whoever's hand that takes it will
reveal sea-green printing... The address is a coffee shop in a mall.
How odd... No odder than anything else Thomas has done...* Good. I
shall see you two later, then. *His fingers swiftly tap out the
proper coordinates, preparing to fade out...*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#9270 Fri, Sep
12, 5:08PM PST
~~He does NOT reach out for the card, letting the trader do that
instead. No chance of someone else touching him tonight, not even by
accident.~~ T'anks ag'in. ~~He watches the man fade away, his stomach
unsettled, his whole body feeling like one raw nerve...~~
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#9330 Fri, Sep 12, 5:13PM PST
((Reese- Oh! *lol* That musta been something to hear... *Snigger*
*Likes 'Fire Water Burn', which is the only BHG song she's heard*))
Not today... *He's still wrung out from his captivity, and only
slightly convinced that getting rid of his 'fader would keep them
safe.... He shakes his head, slowly* I'm going to rearrange the
stops, anyhow...
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#9404 Fri, Sep
12, 5:17PM PST
'Kay...~~He finds a yawn somewhere in his system, a bubble of
sleepiness glittering through his bloodstream to be released by a
gaping breath.~~ M'sorry...
Thomas Murphy Gilbertie : . . . . msg#9405 Fri, Sep 12, 5:17PM
PST
((I'm just going to say Beej took the card and put it away, even if I
didn't post it... *Grin* *Enjoys her powers of Game-Tweakage*)) *He
fades out, puzzled, intrigued, and smiling ever-so-slightly...*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#9465 Fri, Sep
12, 5:22PM PST
((*laugh* Sounds good to me...and what a COOL business card!)) ~~He
spares a glance for the crate after the Meddler goes, wondering
what's in it, and betting on anything that if he tried to find out he
wouldn't be happy with the consequences.~~ Sorry fer' say'n we'd
move't fer 'im...
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#9520 Fri, Sep 12, 5:26PM PST
((*Giggles at Reese* *Likes Elegantly Wasted, now that she knows
that's what's being sung...* *Thought it was 'Allegheny Wasteland'*))
It's all right... *He slips his free arm under his love's knees,
rising and taking the few steps to the bed* I'm tired, and dirty, and
hungry... *Wry smile* Last thing I really wanna do is work.
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#9572 Fri, Sep 12, 5:31PM
PST
((*Wishes she could ignore the ShoutBox.* *Laughs at 'Allegheny
Wasteland', thinking pretty much the same thing.* Maybe it's the
Aussie accent.)) Y...Y'gotta qu't pick'n me up Beej! ~~He protests
feebly, wrapping his arms around his love's neck.~~ T'r'd kin get
fix'd wit'a nap...d'rty jus' needs a show'r...n'ungry kin com'aff'r
bot' a t'oth'rs. 'Cause y'-ain't- go'n out 'lon ag'in!
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#9576 Fri, Sep 12, 5:31PM PST
((*Grin* I know! *Laugh* I came up with the idea after reading a
Lovejoy book.... )) *The crate will be there later today, tomorrow,
and the day after... He figures that the contents must not be too
volitile but restrains his curiosity anyhow, seeing as the man had
been trustworthy... Returning the favor would be a very good way of
staying alive. Beej blinks at his rather morbid thoughts, deciding to
pay more attention to Neets than the box* No big deal... It could be
worse.
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#9642 Fri, Sep 12, 5:37PM PST
((*Dislikes last IC post* *Will fix later* Yeah, I think it was the
accent... *Is glad she can't -see- a shoutbox, whatever it is* *Keeps
seeing banners reading, 'Congratulations to Roseanne Brown!', whoever
-she- is*)) Why? It's not hurting either of us... *A tired grin,
liking the feel of those arms* True, true, and true. I'm not even
very hungry, at the moment.... The other two I'm split over.... *A
sigh, half mocking and half tired* What about you?
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#9677 Fri, Sep 12, 5:40PM
PST
~~He doesn't even spare a glance at the crate, settled on the bed,
his thoughts too jumbled to worry overmuch about what it could be.~~
S'good...don' wan'ya t'be angry wit'me. ((Sorry that took so long...I
desired soda, and couldn't find any...))
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#9757 Fri, Sep 12, 5:46PM
PST
((Piffle. *Assumed that Neets had been set down on the bed at some
point...notes that this does not preclude him having his arms around
Beej's neck.*)) Mebbe...a'kin set m'fad'r up, t'wak's inna 'our
r'two, n'we kin fin' som'place t'show'r, n'th'n we kin get summat
t'eat. 'Kay? Cause m'tir'd as 'ell...
Blackwater Jones : . . . . msg#9781 Fri, Sep 12, 5:47PM PST
((*Grin* 'Sokay!)) It was your bargin, it seems... *Peering down at
that fineboned face, not resisting the urge to brush green tresses
back from brow* It's small, we have a few days to move it, so...
*-love|it's okay-* ((Gotta let my bro look at/reply to email... Back
in under 20 minutes, I hope... Save posts, please!))
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10146 Fri, Sep 12,
6:06PM PST
((*Realizes she was s'posed to respond and whimpers, feeling stupid*
*Notes that she made no mention of either Beej or Neets coming in
contact with the bed* *Will amend this* *later*)) Sounds good to
me... *A slyish smile wanders across his face at the conemplation of
a place to get clean, but he keeps his mouth shut* I'm tired, too...
So yeah, let's do that... *Yawn*
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#10203 Fri, Sep 12, 6:09PM
PST
Yeah...jus' glad'ja ain't angry'r nuth'n. ~~He sighs a little, his
own hand resting on the trader's waist, fingers absently smoothing in
little circles.~~ Love'ya too.
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker : . . . . msg#10235 Fri, Sep 12, 6:11PM
PST
~~He blinks at the flicker of -coy- and the interesting little
smile.~~ W'atcha t'ink'n 'bout Beej? ~~Asked aloud because it hurts
too much to find out right now.~~ C'mere... ~~He raises an eyebrow,
patting the bed beside him.~~
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10272 Fri, Sep 12,
6:13PM PST
*A shrug* Nothin' to be mad about.... *he takes a deep breath and
expells it slowly to prevent more sighing, smiling a little at the
path of those fingers, his own wending through emerald locks* I
know...
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10344 Fri, Sep
12, 6:17PM PST
~~He'd be happy to press closer, but it occurs to him that leaning
forward just then might be a bad thing. He still doesn't notice the
glide of his fingers, not answering verbally, or mentally for that
matter, just...sitting there, close as he dares.~~ ((*grin* Y'know,
it's a good thing these two are winding down, 'cause I have to take
my mother to the store soon...))
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10354 Fri, Sep 12,
6:17PM PST
*The slyness returns, increased a little as he plops down beside
Neetles* Oh... Nothing... You'll find out later. *He tips his head a
bit, unmindful of the extremely wild state of his hair* What?
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10447 Fri, Sep
12, 6:22PM PST
((*makes a face at crossed actions.* Oh well...)) ~~He gives it up
with a shrug, trusting the older man.~~ A'ri't. ~~Smiling a little at
the loopy 'do, he presses his palms flat against the trader's chest,
trying to make him lay down.~~ Jus' wanna lay 'ere wit'cha... s'all.
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10487 Fri, Sep 12,
6:24PM PST
*His thoughts wander, over everything and nothing at all, just
-being-. He is, however, quite grateful that he's here at the
moment...* ((*Laugh* Yeah... *Funny little look* Your mom can't get
to the store by herself...? *Smacks self, soundly* That was rude,
Elvis...*Sigh* Sorry.))
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10536 Fri, Sep
12, 6:27PM PST
~~He yawns again, his eyes closing finally, the years seeming to melt
from his features without the influence of those too-wise amber
orbs.~~ ((*laugh* I'll tell her you said that. Actually, no, she
can't. She worked outside all day, and she's knackered, BUT, she has
to do some banking, and she doesn't want to drive herself.
Soooo...being the Good Girl that I am...*laugh* Want me to mail you
when I get back? We could do a time warp and wake them up
again...*grin*))
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10571 Fri, Sep 12,
6:29PM PST
((*Will fix* *Later* *Checks on the number of C&Ped pages she
has* 17! *Grin* *Thinks this is the longest they've played in a long
time*)) *He submits to his love's insistance with a small laugh,
stretching out on the bed* Yes, dear... *A silly, happy smile sticks
to his face, eyes softening as the wickedness is replaced by the
depth of his adoration...* Silly kitten....
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10639 Fri, Sep
12, 6:33PM PST
~~He snickers, eyes still closed, at the 'dear', and shifts closer,
throwing an arm and a leg over his lover as he intones the
ridiculously sappy nickname.~~ S'w'at f'I am? ((*Agrees* *Has missed
this, but just can't seem to stay up as long anymore...* *frowns.*))
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10696 Fri, Sep 12,
6:35PM PST
*Sleep's song was becoming sweeter and sweeter the longer he remained
there, holding fast to the warmth of Neets and hoping to comfort with
his mere presence... or something. His thoughts were confusing him,
now, sleep a better option than trying to think....* Love you...
((*Chagrined smile* Sorry... *Nod* I know how that is... *Think* We
could do that, or start with a dream sequence... Would you want just
Beej, or Ti & Jor, or...? *Mull* Could also skip straight to
(getting) food, or getting clean... *Innocent humming*))
Neetlemyre Knickerbocker (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10798 Fri, Sep
12, 6:40PM PST
~~The soft rumble of a not-snore is the only thing that will greet
the trader, as his young love drifts off to join the world of
dreams...~~ ((*laugh* I was kidding...it's not a big deal! Hmmmm....a
dream sequence might be fun..but I think Beej has something naughty
planned for that shower...*snicker* Dunno...*shrug* *grin* I'll mail
you when I get back though. I MAY actually get to go OUT tonight!
*laugh*))((*Gone after your response*))
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10857 Fri, Sep 12,
6:43PM PST
*A happy sigh at being corralled by those limbs, noting the
snicker... He recalls the first time he used both names, settling
suddenly on what he wants for dinner* I dunno... I don' mind...
*Brushing his lips against porcelain chin...* ((*Nodnod* *Has also
missed spending hours ignoring almost everyone else IC* *Snicker*
*Sighs, having lost some of her stamina, too* *Thinks it might be
self-imposed, to keep them from making themselves sick*))
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#10983 Fri, Sep 12,
6:48PM PST
*And then he too is off to Morpheus' realm, exhaustion winning over
loving banter...* ((Reese- *Giggle* Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't!
*Snigger* Anyhow, I'll wait for your mail and we'll figure out what
to do then... See you! *hug*))
Blackwater Jones (-Upstairs-): . . . . msg#11052 Fri, Sep 12,
6:51PM PST
((*Is of the personal opinion that Neets and Beej could take a bath
in a washtub in the middle of the tavern's main room and not get
looked at twice.* *Or once, for that matter* *Wonders if....* *Grins
wickedly and doesn't complete the thought, filing it away to present
to Reese, later.*))