+- By Wit & Whitby (https://bywitandwhitby.rpginitiative.com)
+-- Forum: In Character (https://bywitandwhitby.rpginitiative.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=35)
+--- Forum: Archive (https://bywitandwhitby.rpginitiative.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=51)
+---- Forum: Completed threads (https://bywitandwhitby.rpginitiative.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=52)
+---- Thread: [Complete] [CW] Vespers [Streets, Yards, and Homes] (/showthread.php?tid=202)
RE: Vespers - Anthony Rowe - 02-04-2020
Oh. So that was it. That puzzle was solved, then—though Anthony had no idea what the point of this was or why the key was given to him and all that. Whatever. It's a free key. Not something you can just say 'no' to.
"Okay," he said with a shrug, not caring enough anymore to even be confused anymore. Taking the key, Anthony tripped over his feet as he started to follow after Ropati, but quickly steadied himself. No falling over for him today.
RE: Vespers - Ropati Fa'afili - 02-04-2020
There was that Darwin fellow all the elites adored who fawned and fanned over it being natural order for some to inevitably die of their own folly. A fool's justification for sitting back and doing naught-...
He slow-blinked as he heard the man behind him tripping over, what, air?
Alright. Maybe the theory made more sense in Britain.
He paused when he saw number twelve, and gestured broadly to the door.
"Good night, young man," he said, turning sharply to continue on.
Even with the realization that, yeah, he was probably going to have to turn right back around and help this fellow put Key A into Hole B.
RE: Vespers - Anthony Rowe - 02-04-2020
Anthony followed the other man blindly, not thinking for more than one second about why he is actually doing so and where he is actually going. He stared blankly and with great confusion as the man stopped, gestured to the door and then continued on. What?
Perhaps surprisingly, Anthony managed connect the dots and come to the conclusion that he is to...go in this room. He doesn't understand why, but he's not one to ask questions, really.
Anthony glanced at the key. And the door. He doesn't have the hand-eye coordination for this, really. Cue Anthony trying to unlock the door several times and failing miserably every single time. He's going to cry. This was so annoying and irritating and he's decided that he hates living. He tries once more and fails yet again. He's crying now. There are tears in his eyes. Life is pain.
RE: Vespers - Ropati Fa'afili - 02-04-2020
Step, step. Ah, yes. The young man had figured it out. Perhaps he would open the door. Perhaps he would even go on to reproduce, or already had - perish the thought. A couple more scratches, and Ropati's head lolls back enough that he has to stop his tophat from falling off.
... Was that - no. Certainly not. Not these stiff-upper lipped British men who had a million rules for one person and broke them all in the next fell swoop.
... Yes, the man was crying.
He could just run for it. He should just run for it, but life had been a lot easier when he'd had family to save him from himself. Granted, he'd also done some of his dumbest shit trying to step in for them.
Oh well.
He stepped toward the crying man and peered down his glasses at the key.
"... Other side up," he recommended as gently as he could.
RE: Vespers - Anthony Rowe - 02-04-2020
Anthony is now patiently awaiting for the sweet release of death. Anything to either get him away from here, or help him open the door. No matter how much or how hard he tries he cannot succeed in opening it. For a brief moment he considered giving up.
He flinched out of pure surprise as the other man returned. Anthony trusted his advice, willing to do anything noe just to get through this goddamn door. It was a pity, then, that Anthony was a drunk moron with especially terrible hand-eye coordination. He can't do this. He failed in opening the door yet again. This is hell.
Anthony was very close to just giving up and having another breakdown, in front of this random stranger, no less. Maybe he should've just stayed home. This could've all been prevented, if he had. Now he's just crying like a child over how much he hates doors and keys and everything.
RE: Vespers - Ropati Fa'afili - 02-04-2020
Alright. He wasn't sure what he was witnessing, but he was a little less worried about him having fathered theoretical children.
It also failed to occur to him that this young man was instead schooling every wayward child in how to properly mug people.
Wordlessly, he took the key from him, fumbled to unlock the door the crying man was blocking, and eventually got it open. He then held the key out in his palm to him, silently pleading that this man take it, secure himself on the other side of the door, and never stumble down Ropati's path again.
It was a really strained smile that seemed to pull at even the roots of his hair.
RE: Vespers - Anthony Rowe - 02-04-2020
What Ropati was witnessing was Anthony's descent into madness. Or, well, it would have been, had it not been thwarted by the other man opening the door for him. The pure relief of having this pain be over made Anthony cry even more, though whether these were tears of pain or joy was yet to be determined.
After having stared at the open door for a solid ten seconds with such relief, Anthony looked at Ropati. "You're not a dick," he decided. This man may perhaps be the greatest person in the world, even. Anthony is now forever in his debt. Noone has ever helped him like this man has. He has been blessed.
RE: Vespers - Ropati Fa'afili - 02-04-2020
"...... Oh," he said warily. "Thank you. Good night, sir."
He eased back on the ball of his heel, hoping this was the end of that.
RE: Vespers - Anthony Rowe - 02-04-2020
Anthony nodded in acknowledgement of that. This was the worst thing but now it's quite possibly the best thing. Amazing how that works.
"Yeah," he said, glancing towards him as he retreated into the room. Time to do everything he could possibly do except for sleeping, just for the sole reason of ruining tomorrow for himself. "good night, sir."
RE: Vespers - Ropati Fa'afili - 02-04-2020
He stepped back, and back, and back, and back, with that same pleasant face he'd learned to wear for his captors in Cuba. Ten paces out, he turned and picked up his pace.
He got to his room down the hall, put the key in, and went still when the key didn't turn.
The door was unlocked, and his things had been ransacked. His face fell, but he went in, didn't bother closing the door behind him, and stepped back out with fishing gear in hand.
Oh well. He fished better at night anyway.