bloodyrockgod | (no subject)

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Charlie sits on the bed crossed-legged and writes.

Last night with Bartleby, he did . . . something. In my head. Moved something away or sheilded it or covered it or something. So I was still sick and sore, but I wasn't begging for horse anymore. That's a step up.

He's a real, actual angel and that must be why when I'm with him I feel ~~like someone worth saving~~ so damn good.

Nothing about this place makes any sense if you look at it in parts, but if you look at it all together, it's really quite wonderful. It's a bit like the island, really: a hodgepodge of people with their own histories, coming together out of necessity.

~~I just don't want to disappoint anyone this time.~~

Got to play for hours and no one complained of the singing. I blame the Muse entirely.

He puts the notebook aside and curls up on the bed.

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"By making rude jokes, laughing at him, tripping him up... anything, really. Trevor blushed quite easily."

[OOC: Tomorrow?]

"A bit like me, always ass-over-teakettle." He yawns, far too comfortable to do anything more.

[ooc: tomorrow. :D]

Bartleby laughs a little. "Anyway, Oswald, despite all appearances, was very fond of Trevor, and wanted him to be happy. And Trevor very definitely wasn't happy, all lonely in his great laboratory. So Oswald decided to help him, and started organising a great party, without telling Trevor, to be held in Trevor's tower - there were many rooms that Trevor never used, and it was perfect for a house - well, tower - party."

Charlie peers at Bartleby, wondering if this is some sort of metaphor for an event in Bartleby's own life--but decides to just listen to the story. It's too cozy to ask questions.

"He invited everyone, and told them to bring their friends. It was a Bring Your Own Mead party, because Oswald, like many frogs, was a cheap little bastard. And of course, he invited the local... loose women. And told them to definitely bring their friends."

Charlie chortles against Bartleby's knee.

Bartleby looks down at him and grins, stroking a hand through his hair again. "Oswald kept putting off telling Trevor about this party. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was nervous of what Trevor would say. So, half an hour before the arrivals were due to begin, Trevor was still pottering around his laboratory in a potion-stained robe and bare feet."

"And Oswald, being a magical frog, was highly fashion-conscious, yeah?" He moved his head against Bartley's stroking hand.

"Of course. Dude - Charlie - you're getting the hang of it." Bartleby grins. "How're you feeling?"

Charlie shrugs. "Comfortable. Better than I should, really. I think the--block or whatever--you put on me is helping me more than you'd thought it would. We're missing a lot of unpleasantness."

"Sleepy at all? You really need sleep." Bartleby's hand stops running through Charlie's hair and just rests gently on his forehead.

"Tired," Charlie admits. "Very tired. I don't know if I would sleep even if I tried. I can't remember the last good sleep I had . . ."

"I'm sorry, dude. No sleep is shitty, and I don't even really need it." He starts his stroking again.

"Go on with the story," says Charlie, closing his eyes. "I want to know what happened with Oswald and Trevor. If I fall asleep it's not because it's boring, I promise."

"So, Trevor's looking pretty scruffy, not very attractive - normal Trevor-look, anyway. And Oswald subtly tried to hint that Trevor might want to get dolled up. But Trevor wasn't the kind to take subte hints."

Charlie snort again, picturing a wizard with sparkly false eyelashes and badly-applied rouge. And polka dots. Polka dots must be involved somehow.

"So eventually Oswald reached the end of his tether. 'Trevor,' he said. 'Trevor, there will be a lot of buxom village maidens and noblewomen and dashing princes and knights and handsome diamonds-in-the-rough arriving at your castle in half an hour. You need to be appropriately attired."

"Mm, buxom," murmurs Charlie.

Bartleby grins, and ruffles his hair. "Trevor jumped. 'What!!!' he said. 'Oswald, what did you say?' And he turned around and advanced on Oswald, and Oswald cowered a little, and there was a second when Oswald suddenly remembered that, despite everything, Trevor was still the eleventh most powerful wizard in the world."

[OOC: still want to play this out, despite... happenings?]

"So he is a grumpy wizard."

[ooc: yeah, I still want to play this out--he does refer to it in the other thread. Do you know how the story ends :D?]

"Not really, man, but he'd been pushed to his limits by Oswald. Anyway, Oswad cowered, and Trevor calmed down, and said, 'Why are you only teling me now?' Oswald shrugged a froggy shrug, and said 'Go and get changed!'"

[ooc: tomorrow's great. I wanna hear how this story ends :D]

[OOC: To tell the truth? I have no idea.]

[ooc: Oswald gets Trevor to wear his best wizarding robes, there's a lovely buxom maiden at the party with a pretty female frog, and they all live happily ever after.

Or not.]

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